


The Court of Thorns

by Dawnblade_2015



Series: Court of thorns [4]
Category: Hellboy (Movies 2004-2008), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Multi, Non-Graphic Smut, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyfidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 102,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23144665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnblade_2015/pseuds/Dawnblade_2015
Summary: Ten Years have passed since Nuada has made Pen DeRosin, his black rose, Queen.  A fragile peace has stood between the humans and the Sidhe resulting in the Freehold, The Court of thorns.  Now, something comes that threatens to shatter that peace, something both the Sidhe and humans had thought had been exiled and banished long ago, The Aen Elle.  With them comes a Certain sage who seeks a redemption he could not a few thousand years before...Chapter 25 onward is exclusive to this site
Relationships: Avallac'h | Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha/Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Avallac'h | Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha/Original Female Character(s), Nuada (Hellboy)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Court of thorns [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670974
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Fragile peace to shatter

**Author's Note:**

> Translation notes and a bit of information.  
> DeRoisin: Of The rose  
> Black Rose (In story designation) A human who has a soul or life bond to To a Sidhe or Fey.  
> Atar: Father (Sindarin)  
> Atara: Mother (Sindarin)  
> A/N: A bit on my using Male instead of Man...if I were writing just about humans I'd use man (male of the species) and when writing about them I'll use that term. Since I'm mostly writing about Non-human creatures, I use Male. It irked me a bit in watching Playthrough for the witcher the woman says Ciri has never known a man when considering there were more than "Men" in the universe...and just had the feeling She'd possibly hate shagged Avallac'h off-screen/page

They came in a rush of cold and the blue flash of a portal on Samhain eve. The first messengers of the Aen Elle, Riders in red chain mail seeking the land’s ruler. A scared crofter pointed them in the direction of The High Court, Nuada’s Court...The portal flashed three more times as more riders came through. They road on toward the High Court, leaving a swath of trouble and death in their wake.

Pen DeRosin frowned into her mug of Apple Cider. She’d been somewhat ‘hiding’ from her royal duties for the last few hours in the Orb-Weaver tavern. Around her bustled the Freehold known as The Court of Thorns. Few if any would have suspected she was the Lady Freeholder, Lady Thorn, let alone she was the High Queen. She wasn’t the only one one ‘hiding’ today. Nuada had ordained to join her for a drink and a few hours company.

“Drinks say The Ravens find us first...” Pen said.

Nuada smirked at her and ordered a whiskey. The strong liquor was more expensive than the Cider she was drinking. This was suspicious as she hadn’t told the Raven Guard nor her own Bloody Thorns where she would be.

“You told them where we would be, didn’t you?”

His eyes sparkled with amusement, he’d done no such thing.

“No, I just know the guards well, yours and mine.” He said, downing the amber liquid, “...There are rumors spreading, something is coming...”

Troubling reports had come in the last few days, ones that had them here in the tavern to discuss things outside of the hearing of the Royal advisers. They would have to be in some form of agreement before they began planning with them.

“I’ve heard them too, the Red Riders are abroad once more...or so they say.” She said. “Whatever it actually is, has more than a few of my fellow humans spooked and spooked good.”

He looked about the tavern. Tindel, the Tavern keeper was trying to calm down a frightened young man. Nuada rose, he’d see what was up and try to talk to the young man.

“...I will go see what has that boy spooked.” He said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “And Aethen is near the bar.”

She frowned at him over her mug, it would stand the half-Night Elf would find her first as Tindel was his lover. She watched Aethen down whatever was in his mug and rise to escort her out.

“I have to get back to the Guildhall, we are expecting a new class of students...” She got up and set the Trade chits down on the table to pay for their drinks. “I will see you at dinner, Dier and Nod want to see you...”

He tipped his head as Aethen followed her out.

The Court of Thorns officially belonged to the Singer’s Guild, at least the Manse that the Freehold had been established around it did. The Manse had been a gift from Nuada as he knew his Queen had no taste for the pomp and polish that was the High Court. It was also a retreat, like today as he’d come to ‘hide’ from his courtiers and administrators for a few hours and spend some private time with her. In the last ten years, they had settled into a comfortable rhythm of together and apart in equal measure. It also went with the decision to raise their twins away from the intrigues of the Sidhe courts.

Pen made it to the Manse’s main hall as the newest class of students had gathered. She managed to make herself presentable. She took count of the teachers, and staff they would interact with. There must have been student Archivists as Regis, one of their resident Higher Vampires, Alchemist, and Librarian was present. He made his way over as she was adjusting the fly plaid of the court on her shoulder with her brooch. She inhaled as he approached, he was using rosemary, thyme, and primrose to mask his sent today.

“...I see you are back.” He said. “Something interrupted your Outing?"

Regis was also a member of the Inner Court, one of her most trusted advisors.

“Yes, Aethen and a very frightened boy.” She said, watching the various students. “I should know more, tonight when Nuada comes to see the twins...”

Regis nodded, “...The Table will be meeting tonight, we have a new member and they do not wish to be alone tonight.”

That was another thing Regis was, a recovering addict. It had been a few thousand years, but that didn’t make the strides any less. He was head of a gathering of others who had known a similar demon and aided others to fight theirs.

“...I understand, fighting the demon cannot be done alone.” She said. “You will be begging off the Welcome Feast then...”

“Yes, but we will raid the kitchens if we need food.” He said. “I will see you and our new crop shortly...”

She watched him ‘fade’ into the small crowd nearest to them.

“...And here we go for another year...” She said as she made her way to the head of the hall to introduce herself and the other members of the Guild.

The feast was laid out, Pen sat at the High Table. She was Defacto head of the Guild, though Dian Cecht ran most of the day-to-day of it. She watched the students form small groups, not much had changed about school since her time. There were those who were more social, she saw a few of the more reclusive. She made note of them, intending to have a quieter gathering in a few days for those students.

“...A crown for your thoughts, Atara.” Dain Cecht said from beside her.

She turned to him, his smoked lenses slightly down his nose exposing his near milky jade green gaze. He was watching the students as well.

“The most recent rumors and reports are troubling...”

“The sightings of the Red Riders...” He said. “Yes, that is troubling. At first, we thought it was just some smart asses using projections to add a bit of fright to the local hunt to tweak the humans. Then we found corpses, the wounds look like the weapons of the Riders...”

She frowned, this was starting to sound like a problem that could set a spark to tinder.

“...Could someone have copied the weapons?” She asked. “Lochain told me that the last of the Red Riders went down the straight road a few thousand years ago.”

“Not unless they can open the Army’s chamber,” Dain said. “We had the Secure Archive moved there...not many are going to look through it without us knowing.” He frowned. 

“...If the rumors are true, then we have a Pandora’s box that is about to be opened.”

~And not only for the Sidhe...~ She thought. ~The would burn again...~

“...I warned those on the road to keep a sharp ear and eye out.” He said. “...Atar came to the gates five minutes ago...”

She smiled and rose, “Continue here, I intend to have dessert with your father and the twins.”

Dain nodded, “I’ll join you after Storytime...”

She kissed his cheek and went to meet her husband and King.

Nuada was playing with the twins when Pen entered the study. He looked happy being swarmed by the two children. They were still young enough in Sidhe terms that unless you knew their genders it was hard to tell them apart. Their current insistence on dressing alike added to the Confusion. Seeing her, they disengaged from their sire to cling to her.

“...Atar brought the Storybook...” Nod said, excitedly.

She smiled, seeing the large tome sitting on the small table. IT appeared her husband wished them to know a bit of their Sidhe heritage tonight. She had been reading Tomas the Tank engine in Gaelic for them.

“Did he now...” She said. “...And what story do you want tonight?”

“...’bout the Funny dogs.” Nod said.

“The Cu Annwn...” Pen corrected, “The hounds of the Wild Hunt...”

Nuada raised an eyebrow, it was an odd request. Deirdre was having nightmares about them since Samhain and to have Nodens to ask for a story about them...

~A sign?~ He asked through their bond.

~We will see.~ Pen sent back.

A servant brought the small brownie square sundaes that were the dessert at the High Table that night. The twins lit up, their request for a story forgotten for a few moments.

The Story said, and the twins tucked in gave Pen, Nuada, and Dain Cecht a chance to talk. The Young Singer laid out the reports that had come in the last few days. They said much the same, Sightings of Riders in Red Ring mail asking for directions to the courts and laying short siege before they fell. This did not bode well for them or the human kingdoms.

“There have been sightings near the outer Villages, coming this way, Capturing Enclaves on their way.” Dain Cecht said. “I did not mention it at dinner as it would have soured Story Time.”

Nuada frowned, As King those enclaves were under his protection. He would have heads.

“What about the Human Kingdoms?”

“They have had a few clashes, thus the corpses...” He said. “The Singers in the Human Courts are at a loss since the Riders are not from the Sidhe...but it is not helping relations between the Enclaves and the kingdoms.”

Pen frowned. “How long until they arrive?”

“Four days at most, and they’ll come from the direction of the High Seat rather than the freehold.” He looked at her. “You have a suspicion on who these new...problems...are?”

Pen frowned deeper, “By their tactics, yes, but I hope that it is not them...

Dain knew of whom his mother spoke, The Alder Clans...The Clans that had been exiled down the straight road and left the Sidhe and their allies to go into hiding from humans. IF it is them..."

“...Pray to the mother that it is not. With the mother's grace, it is just some Sidhe lord who thinks he can intimidate with the imagery. ”

Nuada didn’t like this, both his son and wife were worried.

“Do not speak in riddles, both of you,” Nuada said. “I need...”

“Aen Elle...” Dain said. “They appear to have returned...but for what reason, there is little here for them.”

Nuada frowned, that was not what he was hoping to hear from either of them. Pen frowned as she looked at her son, who nodded in agreement, they would prepare for them.

“...We should lock down the castle and the Freehold, “ Dain said. “Evacuate to the markets if necessary...”

Nuada nodded, they would begin in the morning.


	2. Playing Politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pen is introduced as DeRosin, or of the rose. It is a reference to her being a "black Rose" of the High Court. and Dain and Tam use DeRosin when sitting at Court and a reference to the fact that they are counted as Pen's sons and not Nuada's. Dierdra and Nodens are acknowledged as Nuada's children since he wed her a short time before their birth and their surname is Danu...  
> Cân fy nghalon: Song of my heart(welsh)  
> Pen's son Dian Cecht uses "Gideon" when sitting at court

The chaos of the Royal seat was not something Pen welcomed, preparations for defense were being carried out and weapons distributed The last of the Muinn, The Remembering ones, were armed with Crossbows, and iron and silver-tipped bolts. The bolts sported Needle bodkins that could punch through most armor, and embed Ring Mail into flesh. She had armed her Singers with the same tipped war arrows to their longbows. She had locked down the Manse and Freehold the night before, none in or out, soon the castle would be the same.

Nuada found her laying out her own weapons. He only had to say the word and she was at his command. He wanted her and the twins safe at the Manse, but she was here with him. He watched her set out her “Night Elf” gear. He had to decide if she would stand as Queen, Guild Mistress or the Court’s assassin. The last he had contemplated, set her in the shadows with a few others and strike down the Riders in a hail of war arrows and crossbow bolts. HE would try diplomacy first, and if that failed the order would be given.

“...I may need you as my Queen or Guild Mistress more.” He said, watching her tie up her hair. “I will be trying a more peaceful approach, first...”

She paused, smiling as she laid out the breast bands to flatten out her chest.

“...We will see how they take that.” She said. “...I will not outfit myself beyond the standard Guild armor...if I have to add gear it will happen.”

He watched her bind herself up and put on the Gamblson. The padded garment soon disappeared beneath armored sleeves, leather, and Ringmail. She also wore leather breeches, armored boots, and Greeves. The armor disappeared beneath a Great Cloak. HE left her to armor himself, the Black and Red dragonhide would do for this.

The White Flag was something that was not expected to be flying above the Rider who approached the castle. An arrow thunking before the lead rider said” “No Further”. Nuada and Pen came to stand on the Battlement above the gate.

“...Voe’rle.” Nuada’s Voice rang out.

The rider rose in his stirrups to get a look at the two. The White Flag went higher so it could be clearly seen by those on the walls.

“We seek the High King...” The Rider shouted. “For Parlay...”

Pen Cocked her crossbow, nodding to her king.

Nuada descended to the field below, Pen’s bolt trained on his back. If this went tits up, her first shot would deny them a hostage, the second would take out the rider before a hail of arrows rained down upon them. The Rider must have seen the glint of torches off the tips of the arrows and bolts.

“Call off your archers...” The Rider said. “We come to negotiate, you have my word as an Aen Saevherne...”

Nuada raised his hand, telling the archers and Pen to stand down. The creaking of bowstrings relaxing echoed on the walls. Pen switched out the shiny point for a blackened one, keeping her aim on Nuada.

“Speak quickly,” He said. “State what you wish...”

He frowned, knowing half of what was coming out of the Rider’s mouth would be bullshit.

“We come seeking new lands, Places to settle.”

Nuada’s frown deepened, “Come in the dawn...We will talk then.”

He walked back toward the Castle as the Riders and Aen Elle set up camp outside the walls.

_In the Rider's camp..._

The Viceroy’s tent was the grandest, next to the Young Sovereign’s. It was here the Aen Saevherne was summoned to give his impressions of the Castle’s defenses. They wanted this world for themselves once more, and what better way than to take down the largest Sidhe court and hold the lands as their own.

"...Ah, Crevan." The Viceroy's voice dripped with false praise. "Your aid will be greatly appreciated..."

Crevan doubted that it was. The threat to his family that the Viceroy was using to get his aid was one he had to take seriously. He took his place before the Map they had looted from an Enclave two days Ride away. The side of his mouth twitched, twisting his lip slightly.

“...They had Archers on the walls, some with crossbows. No doubt they had one of those trained on the king, I would have.” Crevan said. “...we would have a major siege upon our hands if we attacked. They will not fall easy...Ge’els.”

His mouth twitched again, twisting hard. His fingers twitched upon the table.

“...No need to be so agitated.” Ge’els said. “We already control several of their Enclaves...overthrow the King...”

Crevan willed his ticks and tremors to still, he could not let Ge’els see how distasteful he found this, not when he knew what he sought was inside.

“Will not be as easy as you think. The High Court of the Danu is the strongest Court of them all, its king not easily swayed. There are elements within that you have no idea of...”

“But we do, we have you...Who has been within the walls.”

A tick pulled at his lip again. He had been within those walls but as his past. He hoped the Lady “DeRosin” was within. He had no doubt she had been on the walls, her bolt would have taken him across the veil in a heartbeat if something had happened to her king.

“...Tell me of the Council within...”

He took solace that tongues sharp as the word daggers Ge’els was known to fling lay within the castle walls.

_In The castle..._

Pen stood in the Throne Room frowning, the word Aen Saevherne. It was of the Hen Linge, a word she had hoped never to hear in her lifetime. There were things she was privy to that the general Guild was not and that word was one of them. She looked at her husband and son as they stood surrounded by the Raven Guard.

“...What is an Aen Saevherne?” Dain asked. “It isn’t a word I have heard before.”

She took a breath, she would have to explain some things.

“A knowing one, an Elven Sage...In Hen Linge.” Pen Said. “The Singers have done much to preserve as much of their knowledge, even the Miunn have a few of their traditions.”

Nuada knew this was hard for her, to expose secrets she and the guild would have rather kept to themselves.

“...I do not see what threat they pose.” Nuada said. “The offer seems genuine.”

Pen rubbed her arms, suddenly cold.

“They are mostly Aen Elle, of the Alders.” She frowned. “Think of the most arrogant and entitled Sidhe, Now times that by twenty and add a healthy dose of contempt for humans. That was the Aen Elle. When the White Frost was banished, they were banished back to their own world by the “last” of the Elder blood.”

Dain Cecht frowned, he had heard this a few times in his own training.

“That’s the story,” Dain said. “But knowing my dear many greats Grandfather, he recorded the true story and hid it in the mess of his personal archive.”

Pen gave a soft snort of laughter.

“We are still sorting it out...but yes Lochain would have recorded the truth and hidden it.” Pen said. “We should step forward slowly...Hear them out, but temper what they request with the treaties...”

“I can easily do that,” Nuada said. “I do not want another war...The cost is too dear.”

“Nor do I...” Pen said. “The world burned...and almost us with it...”

Dain stifled a yawn, he had been up most of last night and all of this day.

“We have guests to greet in the morning, which is rapidly approaching...I for one would not like to fall asleep in my Porridge...” He said.

There was general agreement, sleep would do everyone good.

The castle was a bit more relaxed in the morning but still an armed camp. Pen changed into her Guild clothes, adding another layer with her cloak as she went out onto the balcony to look at the encampment. There was a pull there, there were those among them that belonged to the Singers. Blood calling to blood. She shivered as she felt a cool breeze, there was something more, something she had never expected to feel again.

Dismissing it as just the breeze, She smiled as she began to sing up the Sun. She chose “Light is Returning.” She let the sound flow over the encampment, calling to those who belonged. She finished and went back inside.

_In the Rider's camp..._

Crevan looked up to the castle wall, the song came down from the castle walls, sweeping over the camp. Several looked toward the Castle, in near thrall to the song. Ge’els frowned as he emerged from his tent. That song grated upon some despite its beauty in calling up the sun. The Singer was taking a gamble, as a bolt or arrow could be easily sent their way. He rubbed a spot on his arm, scarred from the madness that had made him agree to help his people conquer again, he could not answer that call so many were not feeling just yet.

“Soon I shall find you...Cân fy nghalon.” He whispered. “and can lay what is left of my heart in your hands...”

He turned away as Ge’els was coming to retrieve him to enter the castle for breakfast and negotiations.

_Inside the castle..._

Nuada, dressed only in his breeches met Pen with the Glazed mug she used for her morning Coffee. He’d tried it once, wondering what she and the other humans found the bitter beverage. He had not stopped bouncing off the walls for several hours. He now carried the filled mug to her like it contained a Jin. It was amusing to her but did not blame him. She took the mug, sipping before heading to the table to sweeten it and add cream.

“...There are ones who belong to the Guild.” She said. “I felt them...then again it could have been their Sages...”

He came to stand beside her, watching her.

“...You could have ended up with an arrow sent your way.” He scolded. “They mistrust us, and at this point it is mutual.”

She sipped her coffee, letting it spread energy through her. She turned to lean against him.

“Do you want me at your side?” She asked, looking over breakfast laid out for them. “...Or shall I play least in sight?”

He pondered for a few moments, what image did he wish to project.

“...Since you decided to go out and sing for them, As Guild Mistress...” He said. “Your lands are not far from here, you have a say as Freeholder.”

She got a playful smile on her face, knowing they would try to gain a foothold by offering him a female.

“True, and if they think you unmarried...” She said, tracing the Knot of roses and bramble tattoo on his chest.

He sighed as she moved to trace the inked bramble knot on his side. If she kept doing that they wouldn’t meet their guests until well past noon. He stilled her hand before that happened.

“I will make it clear I have a Queen and my bed is already occupied.” He said. “Let me finish dressing and we’ll go down and invite our guests in.”

She finished her coffee and put on the rest of her Court garb.

Pen walked a spear length behind Nuada, her own guard arrayed around her. Aethen looked like he’d not slept. Knowing the Half-elf, he probably didn’t until the castle was secure. Their guests had found time to shed their armor and put on Court Clothes as well. The tables were set for breakfast, an offering of peace. The herald announced them to the hall.

“...His Majesty Nuada Aep Danu, High King, Lord of Maynooth, Ulster, and Antrim. The Guild Mistress Pen DeRosin, Lady freeholder, Lady of the Court of Thorns..."

They took their seats, Dain Cecht came in, Tam behind him dressed in his Raven armor.

“...Gideon Aep DeRosin...Lord of Dublin, Master Singer...”

“Captain Tam Lin Aep DeRosin, Head of the Raven Guard...”

Pen let herself have a small smile, as Tam took off his helm. Each came and bowed before the High Table before taking their seats on either side of her. They could have been announced as Princes, but Dain did not like to play his hand at Court, and Tam had renounced his titles in favor of his youngest brother. The herald announced the delegation, of Aen Elle

“Ge’els, Viceroy to the Court of Tir Na Lia...Crevan Espane Aep Cormhain Macha, Aen Saevherne.”

Pen froze at that name and the sight of the Aen Saevherne. She shivered to refocus herself. Nuada noticed.

~You know that name?~ He sent.

She frowned, the Aen Saevherne did not look well.

~Vaguely, I will have to look in the Archives...but I have seen it written down before~

~I want you to find what you can, order from your king.~

She was not surprised he had given an official order, he wanted to know as much as she did.

The Sage looked at Pen as if he’s seen her before, he leaned toward the Viceroy and said something. The Viceroy’s face took on a hard look. It was clear he saw something he did not like.

“...We ask that Lady DeRosin be removed from this meeting.”

“The Lady Thorn is dear to this court, state your reason...”

"She is...Dh'oine. They do not have the..."

Tam grabbed his mother’s wrist, so she could not flick the stiletto from her sleeve. But she turned her hand and gripped his, assuring a single word would not spark her ire. It did not mean it would not spark Nuada’s

“Weigh your words Carefully Viceroy...” Nuada said, in a low tone. “Lady DeRosin has earned her place among my Court, and it is my court in which you now stand...”

Pen rose, it was important this initial meeting went well. If it didn’t the Viceroy and his Sage would be eating one half to three feet of steel and iron. She would play politics publicly, but as the Court’s assassin, she wasn’t going far.

“Perhaps it is best I do.” Pen said, in near-perfect Hen Llinge. “I have other duties and my estate must be brought out of its defensive state. My sons can relay any decision made...”

~I won’t go far, I do not like this Ge’els...~ She sent. ~There is a place in the Gallery that will give me a clear view...~

Nuada narrowed his eyes at the two before him.

~I may need them alive...~

~Do not worry, they will be if there is a need~ She sent and with Aethen and her guard she left.

Nuada gave them a hard look, they may have gotten what they wanted, but he would not send away the two other representatives of House DeRosin.

Crevan hid a smile, the Lady ‘DeRosin” was playing the game but it was clear she did not like it. She would no doubt have made him and Ge’els eat a foot and half of silver encased iron if she was given the order. She was loyal to her king, and to The Freehold her house represented. The Freehold Ge’els wanted for the Aen Elle. That would not happen, he would not let it. He had betrayed her enough by letting Ge’els get this far. He watched her pass, an echo brushed across his mind...her standing in ring mail and leather giving the order to fire against a line of Red Riders.


	3. Conversations, Song and Clue

Nuada frowned as he left the meeting with the Aen Elle, He was beginning to think it was a description other than of the Alders. Pen had been right about their arrogance and their contempt for Humanity. He had thought he was extreme in his dislike of Humanity as a whole. He also now knew why they had been banished, the other races could not stand them.

They had been raiding on their way to the High Court, capturing Enclaves and minor courts. He had brought up that fact only to have it dismissed as a trivial thing. He could not have them continue doing this, the humans had more dangerous weapons than they had when last they had come to the mortal world.

“...I’d give the order, but that would only mean ‘civil’ war.” He said to Pen over lunch. “It would not go well...”

“No, It wouldn’t. There are still factions that only need a spark to set the world on fire...Their raids maybe that spark...” Pen said. “And I remember where I saw the Sage’s name...in the Lineage Lochain compiled...”

Nuada remembered being granted a look to placate his council.

“Which line?” He asked, between bites of cold sausage.

“That I do not remember, it has been ages since I studied it whole.” She said. “I do know that there is a line of Elder Blood, but I do not know if it came from the Aen Sidhe or Aen Elle before their banishment.”

He decided to change the subject, he would not press her until she had access to her Archives at the Manse.

“...Their raids will be a problem, Humans have guns.” He said. “...Shields and armor will not stop bullets.” He rubbed his chest where the bullet scar was. “...They will have to come to The freehold to learn how to remove them...”

“Yes, and deal with Humans...” Pen said. “They will not beg though, I know that. I will make sure if the Surgeons go abroad they are accompanied at all times.”

He decided to bring up the morning’s little hiccup...

“...You didn’t have to leave this morning.” He said. “You had every right to sit beside me.”

She looked up from the Ginger brew she was drinking.

“I know, but the initial meeting had to go well.” She said. “And the sharp edge of my tongue would not have helped.”

“No, Dain’s did not either. Though the off-hand way he insulted them was amusing.”

Pen knew that he’d have held his insult until they least expected it. She knew of only two insults that Dain could translate into Elder speech.

“The one about Elderberries and hamsters or the Gerbil in bad places...”

“Elderberries and hamsters, though I didn’t know you could translate that into old tongue...”

She could easily see her son deadpanning while saying that.

“The Sage definitely heard it before somewhere, he near broke into a smile when Dain said it.”

She smiled. “Well, they’ve had some contact with the world...”

Nuada smiled as well. “I have a few hours before I have to be King again...”

She moved to sit in his lap, working the ties to his tunic to expose his chest and the ink upon his skin and began brushing her lips over his skin. He pulled her up to kiss her. A few hours would be Perfect.

_In The Guest quarters of the castle..._

Ge’els frowned as he paced, the Lord DeRosin’s sharp tongue had not endeared him to the most of the council. The seemingly blind Singer had an uncanny air about him like he could see into a Soul and know the measure of someone.

“...I have never been so insulted.” Ge’els hissed. “And by a blind male...”

Crevan frowned, he knew well enough of ‘Gideon’ DeRosin. The Half-Sidhe was a skilled healer and a powerful Seer. He’d had the first-hand experience of both.

“...It was unwise to insult his mother.” Crevan said. “She speaks our tongue better than most of the High Court...”

He wasn’t about to tell Ge’els that she could also swear better than half the Riders in their company, and drink them under the table too.

“...What was that noise this morning?”

Crevan smiled, making it seem like one of his tics. Ge’els held little stock in song, preferring paint and Charcoal.

“That was a Life Singer...” Crevan said. “They are descended from the Aen Saevherne left behind, or so I assume. Lady DeRosin is their head, and since she was at Council I can

wager that it was her who was singing up the sun.”

Ge’els frowned deeper, having another reason to dislike her outside being Human.

“...There will be several of them at the feast tonight.” Crevan said.

Ge’els was still pacing a few hours later.

Nuada left Pen sleeping, stretching out, once again to be King. She would join him when she woke. He left instructions with his servants to let her wake on her own. She’d been having odd dreams as of late, ones that left her waking in tears. Sleeping in a bit would be good for her.

In his opinion, she spent too much time at The Manse, but he would not deny the twins their mother. He was about to step out when he heard her wake and rise, coming toward him.

“...Going to be King again?” She said coming up behind him and wrapped her arms around him.

“Unfortunately, yes. I agreed to a feast...”

She made a noise against his back, it meant court clothes and manners. Two things she tended to avoid when possible.

“...I would rather not they know you as Queen yet.” He said. “I sent for formal Guild clothes before lunch, they should arrive soon. As Head of the Guild, you can vanish as you like, you would not be able to as Queen.” He reminded her. “And I wish to show you off tonight...”

She snuggled against him for a few more moments.

“...Emeralds or Garnets?”

“The Garnets, with the jet.” He said. “I wish them to know you belong to me and are mine to command.” He turned and kissed her. “I will send for the servants to dress you...I will see you at the feast.”

She released him and let him go off to his duties.

Pen appeared in the hall dressed in a near-black dress, matching the deep red of the Garnets that made up her jewelry. A netting of Jet beads with Cabochons of Garnets covered her hair, along with the coronet set with ivory, Garnet and jet inlay. The hall went silent as he entered, she looked like one of the Sidhe Ladies save for her ears.

Tam rose to escort her to the High table. He was dressed in the black of the Raven Guard, hair pulled back into a braid with a chain of Garnet and jet woven in. It was the only concession to nobility he’d give.

“...Atar suggested this didn’t he?” Tam said in a low voice. “To show you off...”

“Yes, and I am armed as well...”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Wits or Steel?”

“Yes...”

He bit back a bark of laughter. He set her between Dain and himself. Her younger Son was in formal Singer’s robes of deep blues, wearing his personal device in a brooch on his shoulder. He smiled seeing his mother, making sure she was seated firmly between him and Tam.

The seating arrangement that night dictated the Guests be seated near the king. It meant she was seated next to members of the delegation. She could feel the Viceroy’s disapproving stare already. This was going to be an adventurous meal.

It had taken every ounce of Pen’s Patience to sit while the Viceroy insulted near everyone at the table, not to mention the cooks and servants. Tam quietly pried the eating knife from her fingers, reminding her that it was dull.

“...It will just hurt more...” She growled under her breath.

Dain had her other wrist, knowing she had her iron cored silver dagger up her sleeve.

“And a lot messier...” Dain said, echoing his mother’s distaste. “The carving knife would be better...”

Nuada knew his wife and elder sons were near their limit for being insulted. He decided to try and defuse it before she wiggled out of their grasp and defended her own honor.

“...Lady DeRosin, Master Gideon, would you be so kind as to sing for us...” He asked.

Pen looked at Dain and nodded. Both rose and moved to the center of the hall.

Pen and Dain did not perform together often, but for The High Court, this would be a treat. She conferred with him for a few moments as he tuned the borrowed lute. She waited until he had finished then launched into “Banks of the Lee.” She noticed the Sage was finding his meal interesting. The song had struck a chord, one she needed to pluck again.

She looked at Dain again and continued with “Mo ghillie Mear”. Pen sand the first lines solo. Some of the other Singers in the hall came to join in, some had their instruments. The noble guests began to pound the tables, singing with them. The whole of the hall rang with the song. One of the few the whole Court knew. It showed the unity of the Singers and the court. Pen stood before the Ane Elle guests and sang the last lines as she had the first, alone.

The last Pen had chosen, was “Misty Mountains of Home”. The song spoke of home, the mountains, and fields, hearing one’s native tongue. The homes of the Aen Sidhe, the people of the hiss and mountains. These were the people the Aen Ell had abandoned, subjugated as much as Humans and left them to be slaughtered by said, Humans. With the Final notes, she turned on her heel and marched out of the hall, all the Singers Followed.

Nuada was a bit stunned, those songs had gotten a point across. He saw the Viceroy’s face twist as if he’d been slapped. Oh yes, the Aen Elle guests had been insulted. He coughed to gain his composer back, he shuddered to think if Pen and the others had chosen to channel power through their voices this night. They could have brought the hall and half the castle to rubble

“...I want that bitch barred...” Ge’els hissed.

Crevan was finding the food riveting, indicating he did not share the Viceroy’s opinion.

“Good luck with that...” Tam said under his breath.

Nuada was counting to a thousand by twos to measure out what he was going to say without pushing this situation further into a disaster.

“...You pushed her and Lord DeRosin past insult, be thankful they only used words this night.” Nuada said. “...Lady DeRosin is the Head of her Guild, a Guild of healers...it is never good to insult one who knows how you go together, they could just as easily take you apart.” He rose. “...Gentlemen, this dinner is concluded...”

He left, heading out to find Pen before she found a bottle. Spirits tended to make her tongue sharper after a feast.

Crevan frowned as he rose to follow Ge’els to the guest chambers, reminded of another Fiery woman he’d known long ago. He found amusement in Pen’s departure, knowing as Nuada did that if she had chosen to channel even a fraction of power into her songs all that would be standing was High table. He would have taken Ge’els out himself if the bastard wasn’t holding the secret of the woman he’d long ago love and lost. He took in a breath, perhaps she’d dream of the woman again, lay the fractured ruby in her hands before she fled him once again.

Pen hadn’t gone searching for Wine, but her favorite Ginger brew. She knew she’d not stop at the single drink she usually had after performing. She was sitting in the window seat in the Solar when Nuada caught up to her. She had shed her dress and finery, dressed again in simple clothing.

“...An interesting set.” He said, pouring himself some of the Drink. “...Love and Home...”

She shifted so he could sit behind her and she could lean into him.

“...Things the Aen Elle abandoned and were banished for.” She said. “The Sage was affected, I suspect he lived in the Aen Sidhe world before the banishment.”

He took a sip, letting the bite of ginger linger on his tongue before he spoke.

“...I gave them a warning, considering you could take the Viceroy apart with a few notes if it crossed your mind.” He said as she leaned into him. “I think you should stay in the Freehold for a little while until we can hammer out a reasonable agreement.” He looked out the window with her. “...And I agree with Dain, the carving knife would be less messy.”

She smiled and got an idea, one they had not played in a while.

“So we agree, The Singer, in the dining hall, with the Carving knife...”

He laughed, she had shown him how to play Clue over a few days they had been snowed in at the Freehold. They use it now and again to theoretically “Dispose” of Troublesome courtiers.

“No, let us make it in the garden...More places to hide the body.”

She laughed “Excellent...”

They watched the dawn come, trading ways to make the Viceroy disappear without much fuss.

The morning found many of the Singers saddling up their horses, preparing to return to the Manse and the Court of thorns. Pen was among them, dressed in tunic and breeches. She was listening to one of them talk about how Ill the Sage had looked after she had begun singing. It was not uncommon for them to find out a guest was ill after a performance, some even came asking for medicines.

"...He seemed overly pale." Said the singer. "Like the blood had drained from him. Looks like he could use a few meals as well..."

Pen had heard the symptoms before, she had experienced dealing with them. To hear of it among the Aen Elle, that was serious. it was typically a disease of the Sidhe nobility.

"Lady Pen..."

She turned her attention to the speaker.

"Yes..."

"Have you heard of the symptoms..."

"Yes, his majesty experienced them many years ago..."

Silence fell, they all had heard of what happened to the High King. The madness had cost the king his eye and near his life. It happening to another was a frightening thought.

"We need to go, while the guards can keep an eye on us..."

They all swung into their saddles. Pen took the lead, her guard close.


	4. The apple tree and things that should not be...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pen Finds something that should not exist placed in her hands, A brooch with a personal device...and a name cast away.

_Several days later..._

The Court of Thorns was little changed in the days following The Return as it came to be rapidly known. The students still learned, the Freehold still bustled on. Then a messenger came from the Royal seat, with a request to have access to the Libraries and Archives for the Aen Saevherne. The request set off alarm bells for many of the Singers, as the Archives held many secrets that would be dangerous for the Aen Elle to have. She had frowned all the way to the Royal seat to deal with the council.

“...I have no problem giving them access to the Libraries,” Pen said to the Council. “I do have one, however, giving them access to the Archives.” She looked at Dain. “...We have recently moved the most sensitive portions of our Archive to another more secure location at the behest of his majesty. What remains at the Court of Thorns is Guild restricted...”

There were many murmurs, all the while Ge’els was frowning at her like she’d slit open the throat of his favorite concubine. She took note that the Sage, Crevan, looked a little better, but his hands were shaking as if he were cold. She suspected he was on something just to make it through the day. She shook her head, turning her attention to the Council.

“We are not asking to take over, Lady DeRosin.” one of the Deligation said. “Only access to the knowledge, but I agree your guild must be allowed its secrets.

“I agree.” came a member of the council. “I move to grant them their request, with limited and supervised access."

The vote was unanimous, The Archive would stay secure a little bit longer. She turned to see Crevan watching her as she departed the Council chamber, a tic starting at the corner of his mouth. Something was wrong, and it only emphasized the situation when she saw his eyes were Aquamarine.

Pen sat at the desk in her study, her hands around a mug of sleep tea. She’d awakened from the dream again, of the male offering her a ruby and saying he was giving her his heart. A bottle appeared before her, she looked up to See Detlef, the other resident Higher vampire, reclusive as a ghost he did not usually show himself. Her wakefulness must have disturbed him since he didn’t interact even with the staff all that much if at all. She knew why though, He looked on her as a member of his family.

“Regis sent this, said two shots and go to bed...” He rasped in broken common.

She smiled, she had learned a bit of the vampire language because of him. Since Det did not like humans much he refused to speak common more often than not. She murmured the words for thank you as he became bloody red mist and vanished out of the room. She opened the bottle, wincing at the smell, it was a fresh batch of Regis’ famous hooch. She took out a shot glass and poured a measure. After the second shot, she managed to make it back to her quarters before she passed out into a dreamless sleep.

_A Week after the Council decision..._

The Aen Saevherne arrived in all their glory, A pillion of Raven’s feathers marking them as such. Pen noticed their escort was holding one in the saddle, too ill to do so on their own. She signaled the healers to inspect that one first. The others funneled into a renovated dormitory to settle in. She would welcome them at the feast later that night. It would give her a few hours to prepare herself. The request to come to the healing rooms arrived shortly before the feast.

She arrived in the healing rooms, having taken the chance to calm herself. It was not good to enter angry or agitated. She was brought to the bedside of the Sage Crevan, who had sat beside the Viceroy. She frowned when she saw his body shaking even in the healing sleep, either with misfiring nerves, withdrawal or the Soul Rot itself. She would have wagered it was all three.

“...He hasn’t a Use name.” The healer said. “Or if he did it’s forgotten.” A brooch she knew to be Nuada’s work was set in her hands. “This was on him, pinned beneath his mantle. It looks like an Apple Tree...”

It looked battered like he’d worn it for a long time, the settings were empty and the piece was tarnished overall.

“Avallac’h...” She said, shuddering. “Was there anything else on his person out of place for the Aen Elle?”

The healer frowned, not an unusual question from Lady Thorn.

“No, only the brooch.” The healer said. “...We put him under before he could explain, Half out of his mind already...”

She frowned, this was not good, she’d seen shaking like that a few times before. Once had been from Nuada in the realization he no longer had his twin.

“...Did he try to harm himself before you put him into sleep?”

“NO, but there is evidence of that. Scarred up, like he tried to remove patches of skin...” The healer shuddered. “...Some evidence of a Tattoo, pieces missing due to him trying to Skin himself. There are other scars too like he fought something nasty once upon a time.”

She watched the deeply sleeping form for a few minutes, watching the fingers twitch and the facial tic as well. She wondered why the Aen Elle healers had not treated him, most likely they did not know anything about Soul Rot.

“Check for nerve damage as well...Those with the Soul Rot have been known to do more subtle damage to themselves.”

The healer nodded. “Already checked, mostly healed over. What you see is residual damage. The other Aen Saevherne view him with some disdain...”

“And the reason why?” Pen asked. “They usually save the disdain for humans and Aen Sidhe...”

“None given yet, we have not pressed them.” He said. “We are having his belongings searched, looking for some clue as to what started the Rot...My guess is the loss of a Soul-bond or obsession on something out of reach...”

She looked at the brooch again, remembering Lochain recording something about an Apple Tree setting down roots in a Court of Thorns. She had dismissed it out of hand when she’d read it. Now it was a possibility.

“I have a bad feeling...” She said. “I need to look into this, no Aen Elle should have one of these, let alone an Aen Saevherne...”

“...I will inform you when we wake him, a few days from now. You may be able to ask him yourself.”

She nodded, taking her leave, and the brooch.

Nuada was surprised to see Pen in his workroom, looking at the sketches of Delicate Metalwork he had planned. The brooch was on the bench beside her. Something had happened to send her looking like this. He knew she would not hear him.

“...Finding what you seek, my lady?”

She jumped, so absorbed in her search, knowing if it had been anyone else...

“...It is not like you to go sifting through my drawings.” He said. “What sent you hunting...”

She held up the brooch, “An Aen Saevherne had this on their person...”

He took it and studied it, looking at it from all angles before speaking.

“...It is my work,” He said, studying the piece. “...But it looks damaged, there should be Ruby or light garnet in the apples and Emerald for the leaves..” He looked through his sketches with her. “...Here.” He said finding the sketch that matched the brooch. “...It was to be a gift...the Recipient died before I could even begin the brooch.” He frowned.

“You said an Aen Saevherne had this?”

“Yes, one suffering from Soul Rot...”

His frown deepened, Rot was a nasty way to die. He knew first-hand what it did. He would not wish its symptoms upon another even an Aen Elle.

“He has my sympathies...”Nuada said. “I’ll have the Royal Archives searched for any stories of a house that has an Apple Tree in its heraldry...” He set the brooch next to the sketch. “...A Tangled knot...”

Pen had to agree, the Brooch should not have existed.

“I will check the Guild Archives, we have some things from the Aen Elle before their banishment if it is listed as some personal device I’ll find it.”

Nuada nodded. “...I need to get back to being king, your presence tripped the wards.”

She kissed him and followed him out of the workroom.

The Archive that contained the Aen Elle Heraldry was sparse. She saw one for a Gull and another for a Swallow. There were no apple trees, only the mention of a Sage promised to wed a Lady Lora Dorn with that name. It confirmed he was an Aen Saevherne, but not as to why he had something Nuada had yet to make.

Pen knew well the story, that of the Elder Blood, its descent from an Aen Elle Princess to the Lady of Time and Space, It had only sent her diving deeper until Regis snatched her up and plunked her in front of a meal and the large windows of the Libary.

“Eat...” He said. “You’ve not had a decent meal in days...Let alone seen the sun.”

He was used to this, as she wasn’t the only one who got so caught up in research that they forgot meals. It was one of his duties, as he had been a healer himself once upon a time.

“...Perhaps you could help me as I eat.” Pen said. “I’m looking for the mention of the Name Avallac’h...”

Regis looked at her, frowning he obviously knew that name.

“I know that name, been a few thousand years since I heard it.” He said. “A moment...”

He returned with a book that looked like it had been singed as if someone had tried to destroy it. Someone had not wished the book found.

“...This came from Tor Zireael.” He said. “I had hoped it would never be opened again when this showed up, with the notion that it should be preserved.”

He set it beside her, the page already marked.

“...The name you’re looking for is in there.” He said. “...Be kind as not to stain it with food...”

He was gone when she finished her meal, the name must have brought up a Painful Memory.

Regis looked at the bottle on his desk, he’d had several shots already. He had gone down into the healing rooms after setting the book beside Pen. He shuddered when the healer told him what Crevan had done to himself. It was hard to see an old friend in that state. He’d been at his Wedding to Ciri, watched his children run feral though Corvo Blanco. Stood by his as he’d lit the Pryer that reduced a mortal shell to ash. They had outlived those they had called friends and lovers. He had to weigh out what to Say to Pen, basking in the irony that he was going to be “editing” the truth like a Singer.

Detlef appeared frowning as he poured himself a glass, wincing at the dryness. He’d gone hunting, something carefully done as he knew he’d be staked and encased in lead and concrete for a century if he fed on the wrong being. He had once taunted Lochain to try, needless to say, he didn’t do it again. He saw Regis sitting by the fire.

“...Don’t drink too much of that, I’ve only got two bottles left of that vintage...”

Det looked at the nearly illegible label, seeing the white Raven on the fading surface. This was about one of the Long dead Witchers.

“...I thought there was no more...”

“There were only three, one is in Pen’s study and I have two...well one and a half now.” He watched the fire. “...the Pearl mentioned a name I hadn’t heard in a few centuries. It was startling is all.”

He came to sit at the fire, “...She hasn’t been able to sleep again, though not from nightmares...”

“...I remember those nights.” Regis said softly. “...she is usually up with Deir, but I agree she isn’t sleeping well again.”

“Do you think it is because of the Elves...?”

Regis had considered that, but it had been too obvious.

“I had considered that, but it is tears and night fright that wake her.” He said. “...it scares her whatever the dream.”

Detlef watched the fire as he swirled the wine in his glass. Regis did the same, quietly deciding what to tell Pen when she finished with the book he’d given her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nuada likes to do delicate Metalwork, the movie shows him tinkering a shell for the forest god seed.  
> Yes, Detlef is alive in my story...fate did him and Regis dirty so both are alive here...but Det may or may not show up as often as Regis.


	5. By a single name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pen finds a name never mentioned in the legends, learns a secret, and meets Ciri's great-grandson...

Pen spent several days reading the book Regis had placed beside her. She had made frequent trips to the healing rooms, only to be told the healers did not think it wise to wake Crevan from his healing sleep. Between the trips and her duties, the going was slow.

She eventually found what she was looking for as a name and a notation. It sent her looking to the Linage that Lochain had written down so carefully. She found another name, one faded as if someone had tried to erase it but could not.

_Ceil Fadyn Aep Crevan Espane_

  
She sat there with the closed tome, shock, and even more, questions ran through her. She had known there was a thread of Elder Blood in the linage, but to find where it had come from. The line had been a “pure” strain that the Aen Elle had hoped would come of the union of Crevan and Lara. She put her hands over the tome, shuddering.

“I know why you hid him...” She whispered. “But why didn’t you tell Avallac’h he was a father...”

The answer came soon enough, as she researched more on the Aen Elle and their search for the Elder Blood.

Nuada found Pen sitting in the Window seat, as he usually did when she’d found some uncomfortable truth or thorny subject she had to work through. He moved her enough so he could sit behind her and hold her as usual. It must have been a very uncomfortable truth for her to ride the few hours between the Freehold and the Castle near dark.

“...No wine this time?” He asked, seeing she had no glass or mug.

She leaned back into his embrace, trying to measure out what she was going to say.

“I’d rather think of this sober.” She said. “ They wanted to conquer, they needed the Elder Blood to do it...” She took in a breath. “...Lara wouldn’t let them. That act of “rebellion” led to a lie, that lie led to a hatred...”

He held her, knowing she would not say much until she could figure out how to speak the truth without giving away anything. He knew when she did it, not just because of their bond. He had watched her do it to the Council as well.

“Will you tell the dying this...or share it with the Aen Saevherne...” He said. “The blade’s edge...”

They used that term for a Thorny situation that could cause trouble no matter which way it went.

“That is the thing, do I tell a dying Male he had a child long ago and bring to him a descendant that knows nothing of him or banish a lie that will set the world afire again.”

“The blade’s edge again.” He said. “No matter how it is swung it ends in blood.”

“I have played with the idea of telling the descendants, so they may claim their linage.” She said. “But that too is a blade’s edge...”

He knew she would have tracked down any other descendants before weighing out her choices.

“You found them among the Sidhe?”

“Yes, and in my linage.” She said. “Though I am sadly human...”

He laughed at her self-deprecation.

“...As was the Lady Ciri...” He reminded her. “Or so she was counted...” He looked out the window at the Sunset. “...Tell the head of the House, and let them choose. I should introduce you to Cirdan, who is the current Lord of the House of the Swallow.”

She turned slightly, she had known the one who had opened the gate to banish the Aen Elle had been of the Elder Blood. She had not known they had followed the Aen Elle through the gate.

“...Lady Ciri’s”

“...Great-Grandson.” He said. “And quite proud of it.” He had been saving that bit for the next feast but her research prompted him to tell her. “...He was curious as to you since I said you are The Lady Freeholder of the Court of Thorns. He wishes to bring his retinue to tour the Freehold.”

“He’ll behave?”

He laughed again. “...When I mentioned your court, he almost immediately asked to visit. I have no idea why. I have most of them believing you are The Guild Head and Freeholder upon the Council. I said I had to be granted permission myself to be allowed into the Manse.”

It was Pen’s turn to laugh, knowing the Freehold was as much his “retreat” as her home.

“...I will have to make the staff and students aware...”

“Yes, it will at least get one of them out of my hair for a while...” He said. “I am seriously considering tossing half of them back through the Arth gate...including their Viceroy...”

“I did a little digging into the Aen Elle Court, kind of what started me hunting outside the Brooch.” She said. “...Ge’els has been Viceroy since before the Banishing, so I would suspect he’s even a bit more jaded than the Typical Aen Elle...”

“And twice as arrogant.” He said. “Thinking on them makes my head hurt...”

She smiled. “...Then let us call up a bottle of wine, give us both an actual reason to have one...”

He smiled and signaled for a servant.

The welcoming of The House of the Swallow to the Court of Thorns took several days preparation. Pen frowned when informed she would have to adhere to Royal Protocols to keep the illusion of her being “Worthy” of the coronet she’d been given. She’d play along, but she would have rather dragged the Young Aen Elle to the Orb-weaver and get him drunk as a skunk. Get them to break their composure, and you find what lay beneath.

She’d already found a few of the students had done that to an Aen Saevherne, the poor Sage had been in the healing rooms with a massive hangover for several days. Regis had found out who and had brought them to Pen.

“...I’ll give them points for originality,” Regis said, after informing her. “...We are looking for their still...that stuff was rather nasty...in taste and potency...”

Regis had given them a lecture on mellowing out their batches, before someone ended up poisoned, for which they would be expelled and charged with a crime. The Senior student in the bunch knew they’d gotten their one warning, and from the Court’s master hooch maker no less. Pen had near detained the lot, but they had found out the reason The Aen Saevherne had been sent to the Freehold.

“...Well, at least we know now why we have them.” She said. “They still wish to rule, but I think it will not be so easy for them this time...”

Regis frowned, “I have watched you, Humans, for several thousand years...Your genius still amazes me as does your stupidity...”  
She couldn’t disagree, her fellow humans could really put their foot in it if given the chance.

The Welcome feast brought out the cream of the Freehold to schmooze with the young Aen Elle Lord. Pen had taken great precautions to make sure there was a balanced representation of the Court to show the young lord. He, however, had a thousand and one questions for her. Most revolved around how much she knew about their kinswomen. She told all she knew of Ciri, a little more than the young Aen Elle had. She, however, decided to edit carefully when it came to Lara since her discovery would only bring pain to a lot of people undeserving of it.

“...It is good to see them both remembered.” Cirdan said. “...Even if it is by Aen Saevherne...”

She wondered why he thought her a Sage, she had no gifts beyond her singer abilities and perhaps a little more.

“We are Singers, not Sages.” She told him. “Though some of their traditions hold among us.”

He was watching the crowd, more watching a half-elf female weaving in and out of the crowd.

“...I was once told otherwise.” He said. “I know of the Sage you have been looking after, he told me much of my Great-Grandmother, he was her mentor...” He frowned. “Though I have begun to suspect it was more. He has spoken of Lara as well, her promised or so my own mentors have said.”

~So here is the thread I need...~ Pen thought.

“...He has not given his use name to my healers.” She said. “I am concerned about this, as most Sidhe do not give their personal names.”

“And he is not likely to.” Cirdan frowned. “...When my Great-Grandmother died, he said that Avallac’h was dead with her. He has refused to answer to anything but Crevan since that day.” He shifted in his seat. “And no one can fathom the reason other than he loved her as he did Lara...”

~That explains the Apple tree brooch, a personal device, but not how it came into his possession.~ Pen thought. ~And a reason for the Soul Rot. The healer was right...on both counts~

“...Perhaps he did.” She said softly. “...Is there a real reason that you wished to come to my court, other than the thin Veil of blood.”

The young Aen Elle inclined her head, acknowledging her words.

“...Ge’els wishes your court disbanded so he may gain the land the Freehold rests on.” He said. “He does not like you, though I suspect the feeling is mutual. He manipulated

Crevan into aiding him with a threat toward my house. I do not tolerate such things.”

“Quite...” She said. “My guild was granted the Manse by his Majesty, the Freehold is mine...”

“I have not found anything he could use against you.” He said. “He likes to manipulate, and good at it...”

“I will keep vigilant, he has held power for too long.”

“That, my lady, is an understatement....” He rose, “Excuse me, I see something of your court I would like to invest in...”

Pen watched where his gaze was going, she smirked. The Half-elf woman he’d been ogling, a dark-haired female in the black leathers of her personal guard. The illusion of oozing sex, was a tool, along with her other skills.

“...Rhiannon strikes again.” Aethen said, softly, leaning in to talk to her. “We’ll know everything about him by morning. You would never know she was our Spymaster...”

“...She is good at her job.” Pen said. “And Aiden enjoys watching her work...”

She gestured to the Half-elf bard intently watching Rhiannon chat up the young lord and pretend to be charmed by him.

Aethen laughed softly. “...I do not think he’d care as long as she comes home to him.”

She smirked, watching Rhiannon work her magic upon the Aen Elle lord. She was looking forward to the report the woman would have for her in the morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ceil Fadyn: Hidden fox (Irish/welsh mash)


	6. A bond unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces fall into place, and Pen discovers that there is more reason than past for Crevan to have come to the Court of thorns.

The Aen Elle Lord’s face the next morning said just how good Rhiannon was at her job. He looked very content and had high praise for the evening he’d spent in her company. It still amazed Pen that Rhiannon could go from Wench to Courtesan as the need arose. She would get the report once the Lord and his retinue left after breakfast. The visit to her court thankfully brief.

Both Rhiannon and Aethen stood in Pen’s study, their reports on the night before setting on her desk as she read them. Rhi looked like she wanted to be dismissed so she could go home to her life partner. Aethen also looked antsy this morning.

“...I don’t see anything amiss in your reports.” Pen said. “Why are you both antsy?”

Rhiannon shifted from foot to foot, her hair damp after her bath. That seemed to be one rule she kept to, a bath before returning to Adien.

“Aiden wants to have breakfast with me...” Rhi said.

That was not new and said the bard wished to discuss their next...adventure. Rhi could pass for human if dressed a certain way which in some ways made her job as Spymaster easier. She had a feeling as to why Aethen was antsy, it was almost he and Tindel’s anniversary and the half-night elf was very conscious of his partner’s needs.

“...The Aen Elle Lord.” Pen said so she could release them.

“He is of the Elder Blood, and a quarter human,” Rhi said. “Though that would track considering his linage. He doesn’t quite fit into the skin he lives, his house doesn’t fit the mold so to speak.”

Pen raised an eyebrow. “So the House of the Swallow does not quite fit, I would suspect that as the Elder blood came from a Human source...”

“It’s not just that, the other Royal Houses do not like them. Though I suspect it is because they have a human source, looked upon as “tainted” in some way.”

“So they were looking for Kindred to find a place to settle outside the Aen Elle Court?”

“I would say so, and actually having the House in our court would quell a lot of wagging tongues.”

“And cause more problems.” Pen said. “If they come asking, we vet every one of the house.”

Rhi nodded, “Aiden will help...”

Pen smiled. “I would expect no less...” She waved her hand. “Go, both of you, I’ll see you in a few hours...”

Both bowed and departed.

Lunch found Pen returning the tome that had set her on the track of a faint thread and more secrets. Regis held it for a few moments before ghosting into the shelves. He returned with a bottle of his famous hooch. She knew he brought it out when some hard truth needed to be said, or confession made.

“...I knew Ciri.” He said. “And the hunt. Geralt went on to find her.” He uncorked the bottle as two glasses set on the table. “I and Detlef helped...” He poured two measures, one in each glass. “We would see each other on our rare visits to Corvo Blanco...Mostly for me to deliver herbs to Yennifer.” He downed one glass and nudged the other toward her.

“...I knew of Avallac’h, I knew exactly which book you would need when you came to ask...”

“Regis...” She said.

He held up a hand to quiet her, he had a bit of a confession.

“...I went to the healing rooms, looked upon him. Time has worn upon him, as it has upon me. I saw much of the man I met...”

“...I take you knew him not well?”

Regis frowned, he would have to edit what he said, not wanting her to know just how well he knew the sage.

“Ciri would come to Corvo Blanco alone, I suspect because Geralt did not see Avallac’h as a friend. He spent some time there, according to Yen, I never got more than that.” He poured another measure into his glass. “...I happened to meet them on the road, going between the summer fields and my shop in town. It was clear they shared some connection beyond mentor and student. We only talked briefly...I never saw Avallac’h after that.” He downed the glass again. “Ciri would change the subject, after, when I asked after him...”

“...A falling out?”

He considered a third glass, but that would have loosened his tongue a bit too much.

“No, I never got that impression.” He said. “More like a distance, much like you and himself...”

“I do not change the subject when someone mentions Nuada...” She said.

Regis laughed. “No, you grew up around the Aen Sidhe. You know them better than the average human can. Ciri had no such reference, she knew the ways of Witchers, but for all their mutations they were still humans.”

Pen downed her glass, tasting the burn on her tongue. She could think of a thousand reasons Ciri would have not to talk about herself and her Elven lover, especially if he was the only male she loved enough to bed. Relationships between humans and Sidhe could be complicated.

“...I would be careful.” He said. “Your research has gotten some odd questions from the Aen Saevherne...some of them pointed too.” He corked the bottle. “...I spoke to one of them this morning, it appears the young Lord Cirdan isn’t the only one looked upon as “Tainted”.”

She heard the message in his words, the Sage, Crevan, was looked upon the same way. It explained why his own people had not treated him.

“I will have care, and set aside the subject.” She said. “For now...”

Regis nodded, some secrets would remain so for a bit longer.

The healers finally allowed Crevan to be awake, though he did not seem keen on thanking them for the privilege. He spent much of his time in the gardens, and conservatory as if remembering them. Pen came across him admiring one of the bushes of “Lady Sara” Roses.

“...Aen Saevherne...” She said coming up beside him.

He turned to look, his breath catching as he felt a shiver go through him.

“Lady Thorn...” He said, turning back to the roses. “I should apologize for the trouble I have caused, I should have not spoken to Ge’els of my knowledge of you.”

She watched his profile, the tic pulling back his lips as the nerves misfired.

“It is no secret among the High Court, but I am curious as to where you got that knowledge.”

His lips twitched twice, a measure of agitation but not anger. He dreaded this, meeting her again after so long.

“...We have met before, though I suspect my past and your future.” He said. “I was a fool then, not realizing what I had been given...twice over.”

“You speak of Ciri?”

He moved his hands behind his back to still their shaking, The medicine the healers had given him to reduce the misfires was only marginally working. He suspected because of the other substances he’d used to treat it on his own.

“Not only her...” He said reaching out to one of the amber blooms, then pulled his hand away. “I have learned many lessons in the time between the Banishment and The Return.” He changed the subject. “These are most unusual roses...”

She tilted her head, acknowledging his discomfort.

“They were a gift when I wed my husband.” Pen said. “They are hybrid from a strain called “Golden Goblin” She touched one of the blooms. “Lord Jareth bred this strain for his Queen, the then Lady Sara, thus the name. He wanted a Fey Rose to give her that was not deadly but held the Illusion of such. The Goblin strain is deadly and tends to bite, so it is around the private courtyard, to keep intruders out.”

“...Beautiful none the less.” He said, watching one of the blooms move to snap at her fingers.

“And they bite less...” She said, stroking the offending bloom. “Come, there are other things in the Garden to see...”

He followed her, for the first time since awakening, feeling at peace.

The few hours spent in the Gardens told much of Crevan, his movements and hesitations. She watched his fingers twitch when he wasn’t paying attention, another sign of the damage done. She looked into his eyes, the same blue as Lochain, brighter even. The pull she felt when he held out his hand to aid her in rising from a bench they had paused at gave her a jolt. It confused and frightened her. She should not have felt this...bond...to this male. She tried to ignore it, but something of him drew her to him.

Crevan sat heavily on his bed, his hands shaking. He knew he’d found her, his heart song. The only complication, she was already married. He supposed that was a cruel fate, to lose himself in that evergreen gaze and yet could not. He had no evidence of a husband yet, but the marks he’d seen on her arms said otherwise. He did not know if he could hold his distance, not cross lines so boldly drawn on her skin. He held his head in his hands and sobbed.

Pen buried herself in another search, hoping what she’d felt was just a fluke of being close to Crevan for those few hours. The thought of what his kiss would taste like if she gave him a honey sweet brushed across her mind. The thought making it hard to think of anything else. She knew he belonged to the Court and Singers, but more than that belonged to her. She had never expected this, a second bond that reached deep into her being. She avoided him, trying to sort out how she was going to handle this forming bond.

It was the dream of the male holding out the flawed ruby and hearing Crevan’s voice saying he was giving her his heart, and she was its song. She watched the male step into the ethereal light of the pulse within the ruby as it was laid in her hands. His face looked at her in wonder as he drew her against him. His kiss was honey-sweet, a promise.

“I have found you at last...Cân fy nghalon.”

She bolted awake, she was in tears as before. She had never gotten that far into the dream before. She did not know how to deal with this, a second bond to her soul.

“Crevan...” She said, the tears flowing down. “Oh gods, why...why couldn’t you have found me sooner...when this would have not weighed so heavy...”

The revelation left her unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

Unable to focus upon her duties, she spent a few days in the Orb-weaver, sleeping in the back rooms when the hour grew late. Aethen would spoon behind her and hold her as she wept, his bond to her telling him how hard this was. It would have no easy answers. After several days of trying to sort it out, she tossed the trade chits on the table and returned to the Manse.

It was all too soon, Pen was sitting in the window seat in the Castle solar. Not knowing how to deal with her feelings and revelations about Crevan. She had felt others, and they had slid into where they belonged without a hitch. The Sage was different, he would need the Ceremony of Bonding to find his place and she remembered when she last performed it. There was also the other bond she was beginning to feel sliding into place.

“...What made you ride the few hours to me this time.” Nuada teased. “...I know you have not gone hunting threads, what is it...”

He did not expect her answer, and it conveyed her confusion and struggle.

“Crevan...” She said. “He belongs to...Me...”

He frowned as he positioned himself behind her. The last she had said that was of Aethen, and without Lochain’s explanation he would have gutted the Half-elf rather than make him a member of the Royal house. He knew why she’d be conflicted, the Ceremony was not to be performed or taken lightly. He knew as well she’d gone to Aethen first to sort it out, for many reasons.

“...And you do not desire me to feel the Cuckold again.” He said, holding her close. “...I am a jealous one.”

She sighed. “Part of it...” She said. “But there is the oath. If he takes the Loyalty Oath to the High Court, as all of the Court of Thorns do, you are his king.”

Another reason she came to him, he was king and for one like Crevan, it would mean everything not to betray him. It also meant the Sage would most likely run scared the first time she offered him the honey-sweet.

“...Binding would be Cuckolding and betraying me, at least to him...” He said softly. “We do not have to deal with this until he decides to take the oath.” He felt her tremble, there was something more. “...It won’t wait for his oath, will it?”

She frowned, “...That is what I fear, and makes the choice hard.” She said. “The Thorns are willing...”

He put his arms tight around her, their love had been tested by much more. Personally he did not know if he could share her, Aethen was a sarcastic pain in the ass but the Half-elf was loyal to her and the Court. He still could not say the same of the Sage, just yet.

“Shush...” He said. “...You cannot push time.”

He would often say that to her when she was troubled by something she could not solve readily. It appeared her feelings for the sage would be one of those things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ceremony of Binding will be explained a bit later...


	7. Mid-winter Revel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pen gets to know Crevan, and invites him to attend the Mid-winter fair, she also gives him another invite that had him running from her.

Pen returned to the Freehold with a slightly lighter heart. She found time to get to know Crevan as he was. She wrote down his stories, his memories of Ciri and monsters they had fought. He seemed hesitant when she asked how he and Ciri fell in love. The tic in his face would increase and his hands would shake, telling her the subject was a sensitive one. She changed the subject to something else, like the worlds he’d seen. Of those, he regaled her with great pleasure.

Crevan found Pen’s attention delightful, a good listener and an attentive scribe. She would not press him if the subject seemed to bother him. He felt like he was young again, wanting to court this woman beside him. He saw so much of Lara in her as he’d seen in Ciri. But this seemed easier, her hair was dark as night rather than ashen blond and she was married. He had promised himself there were lines he would not step over, The tattoo he saw peeking from her sleeve was enough to enforce that choice. For all that, she soothed something in him. It was hard for him as well, he’d known this feeling twice before, he did not know if he could endure loving and losing a third time.

Pen called Crevan to her study shortly before The Mid-Winter fair, informing him that he would be accompanying her and her children to the Fair. It would be a chance to see a bit more of the Royal Seat and allow her children some time to see their sire. Before he left, she placed a bit of hardened honey in his palm and curled his twitching fingers over it, an invitation should he decide. He looked at her in disbelief.

“...Lady Thorn...I...”

She put a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“You belong among us, Crevan.” She said, softly. “You belong...and you do not have to answer yet.”

He looked down at the sweet in his hand and then at her. She levered up and kissed the corner of his mouth where a tic pulled at his lips. He all but fled, confused by her sudden change.

_A Week Later..._

Aethen near snorted his ale out his nose when he’d heard of the Sage’s reaction to being offered the Honey-kiss. It was the first time he’d heard of a male running when offered the sweet from a woman he fancied. It had amused Pen as well, and ever since Crevan had been avoiding her.

“...That was a bold move.” He said to Pen. “but when it comes to one like him, blunt seems to be best.”

“He must think me mad, married and asking for a tryst with him...” Pen said, looking into her Cider. “But I know even now if I offered to you, I’d have twelve stone of Half-elf in my bed...”

Aethen could not disagree with that, he cared for Pen beyond the Ceremony that had bound them as Guard and Guarded. He had been her friend and teacher while she was a young singer.

“Well if you ever tire of himself’s pale ass...” He teased.

She punched him in the arm, “...You know he’d take your balls this time...”

“Do not remind me.” He said. “Tindel wants me to play bouncer for the Fair, lots of new merchants coming to make trade deals...”

“So that means Cullen,” She said. “I’m giving Rhi the day off to go to the fair with Aiden.”

“I’ll ask one of the garrison to go with you too since tongues are going to be wagging when they see you with the sage and not me...”

“They wag enough when I am in Court with Nuada in plain clothing.” She said.

He frowned. “...A kiss my lady, and we shall part...”

She leaned in as he put his hand on her thigh, where Seven black stars had been inked after their binding. She kissed him, pulling back before she climbed into his lap.

“...I will see you in a few days, Réalta Dorcha.”

He smiled as she left, savoring the taste of Cider from her kiss.

The Mid-Winter Fair held on the grounds of the Royal Seat was the first time Crevan accompanied Pen to an event, not within the Freehold. He was amazed by the Delight taken in the snow and the Children running from stall to stall for sweets. This included Pen’s own children, the twins ran slightly ahead with one of the guards. In them, he saw his own at that age, bright and without care.

“...They are as safe here as the Freehold.” She said when he watched them. “...Nuada would not hold the Fair here otherwise.”

As she said this, Nuada dressed very much as a commoner came up to them. Deirdre hanging on to him, Nodens trailing after with a large pastry still warm from the oven of the baker. Crevan decided to look elsewhere, reminded of the lines he was treading by being with her even as her guest.

“Lady DeRosin...Aen Saevherne...” He said and watched the Sage stiffen. “...I see you are enjoying the Fair...”

Pen smiled and kissed him, “...Happy birthday my love.”

He smiled, she never forgot Yule was his birthday.

“In all the preparations, I’d near forgotten...” He said. “You will be staying for the Feast...”

She smiled, usually, on this Day Aethen would watch the twins while she took their sire into a room and claimed him all over again.

“Yes, I’ve had clothes brought...” She said as Nod came and offered her some of the pastry, filled with date paste. “...Thank You...”

Nod beamed, looking even more like his sire. He offered some to Crevan, who backed up sightly, surprised the child was so accepting of his presence.

“...Food.” He said, holding it out to the Sage. “...’Even eat...make Atara happy...”

~Perceptive, The Sage does need to eat more.~ Nuada sent.

~I know, I’m working on it.~ Pen sent back.

“I do not think he wants any.” She said softly. “I think your Atar wants some...”

Nod turned to his sire and held up the pastry. Nuada took a bit, smiling down at his son. He took the Pastry, it would spoil actual food later.

“...Good.” Nuada said as he swallowed the mouthful he’d taken. “I think I saw those sausage rolls Atara likes a few stalls up...” He set Deir down and gave them both a few coins. “Why don’t you go get her some...”

Both ran off again, one of the guards following close behind.

“Where is Aethen, he likes The Mid-Winter Fair...” Nuada said as it was the Half-elf that usually accompanied her to such functions.

“Tindel asked him to play bouncer.” She said. “Cullen volunteered. I gave Rhi the day off, she and Aiden are here...”

Nuada pulled a velvet pouch from the one on his hip and opened it.

“...Hold out your hand.” He said, smiling at her. “I made something new, wear it tonight...”

Into her hand, he poured a necklace of jet and garnet set with silver. Crevan looked elsewhere, reminded again of the line he could not cross. Nuada noticed and stepped in close to Pen.

“...Have him talk to Aethen...” He whispered.” I think the half-elf could give him some insight.”

“Yes, I plan on it...” She whispered back. “When he is ready...”

Nuada leaned in closer and kissed her. They both knew tongues would be wagging that Pen had a lover. Most of the time the “Lover” was him, dressed in common clothes, the other part was Aethen. He stepped away, as the Twins returned with several Rolls between them.

The feast was a grand spectacle, as one would suspect for a monarch’s birthday mixed with a holiday. Pen spent much of the time at the edge of the gathering with the twins. Crevan staid close, which set tongues on another wag fest. Thankfully Jareth and Sara were there since they often went to see Toby and his family during the winter holiday. Sarah joined their small group with her own children. Jareth led Crevan off to some male function within the feast.

“...So that is Crevan.” Sarah said. “He’s handsome if I didn’t know I’d say he looks like one of Jareth’s relatives...”

“Yes,” Pen said. “...The rumors most likely have him in my bed already.”

Sarah frowned. “...You do not wish to know what the Goblin-Sidhe courts are saying.”

“...I have my guesses.” Pen said, watching the revilers. “They have not stopped since I shoved an Iron dagger into the rumor-mongering bitch...”

Sarah made a noise of disgust, she had been glad to get rid of that particular courtier.

“...The Aen Elle have been demanding access to the Libraries of the Goblin High Court.” Sarah said, changing the subject. “...Jareth has denied them so far...”

“What good would that do them?” Pen said. “They could not even read half of it.”

“...Knowledge can be a dangerous tool.” Sarah said. “I’m kind of glad they cannot access the human libraries...”

“...Nor do they see the danger that humans pose.”

One of the subjects of gossip at the feast was of a raid where the Riders had their horses shot out from under them. The healers had heard no such thing, but then again the Aen Elle had their own healers.”

“...They will before long “ Sarah said. “...And they will request from you and the knowledge how to remove the bullets...”

“I know...” Pen said. “And it will chafe the Viceroy’s ass.”

“Yes, I met him.” She said. “Jareth threatened him with the bog when he insulted me...”

Pen had to grin, the Goblin King could even frighten his fellow Sidhe.

The feast ended and Pen decided it was too late to head back to the Manse. Nuada had the twins tucked into the Royal Nursery. Crevan was set in a guest suite. Pen was entrenched in a chair by the hearth sitting in Nuada’s lap.

“...Tongues were wagging as usual.” He said softly, “Several asked if I knew that a Sage was sharing your bed.”

“He isn’t, not yet. I don’t think he even knows what to do. I offered him a sweet...” Pen said. “He ran, today was the first he’s been in my presence since...”

He laughed softly, he could picture the poor sage not being able to back up fast enough from her out of confusion and fear.

“You know that, as do I.” He said. “But I must ask...”

“No. I will not push him to the Oath.” She said.

“I was going to ask if you were going to back him into an alcove, and...Take care of him.” He teased.

Pen shook her head, “Enough of what you wanted me to do to you...”

He snickered, “I quelled them, informing I would pull the tongue out of the next one who uttered such words.”

“...I’d call you my hero.” She said, reaching up to pull him down for a kiss. “...If I didn’t know you meant it.”

“...A king must rule.” He said. “Jareth asked if they could bring Toby and his children to the Court of Thorn’s Yule Ball...”

“Sarah knows the answer to that, I enjoy having them come. I suspect he asked because then it would be an official visit.”

Nuada nodded. “I was surrounded by Aen Elle, so that would sound about right for Jareth himself.”

“The Goblin King and Queen would have simply come...”

“And I intend for my lady to do that several times tonight...”

She smirked and pulled him down for another kiss.

“I brought the box...” she said.

He smiled their Yule tradition.

“...I got a new toy to put in.” He said. “A new leatherworker moved into the Castle town...”

She looked up at him, stroking his throat.

“...A specialist...” He said. “...has deer leather...”

She smiled more shifting to face him, stroking his arms.

“I got one with some nice tails...” He said. “...but we shall wait, I do not wish to be in a compromising position if something happens with our guests.”

She pouted, but she knew him being King came first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Réalta Dorcha: Dark star (Irish) Pen's endearment for Aethen


	8. An unnatural storm and pulling threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm is used as a faint to cover a raid upon the Court of Thorns, Pen uses a skill she does not enjoy using to get an answer.

Crevan woke from a nightmare, memories he’d thought buried came to the fore. He had enough practice not to scream himself awake. He sat for a few moments before setting his feet on the floor and rising. He put on a robe, he wouldn’t get any more sleep tonight. He heard the wind outside, reminding him of the coming of the White Frost. It must have been that sound that triggered the Nightmare. A pot of some infusion was sitting on a table along with Regis. It had been a long time since he’d seen the Higher Vampire, the last had been at Ciri’s cremation.

“You’re looking slightly better than when I last saw you,” Regis said. “...At least you are awake.”

He let a tic pull his lips, it was good to see an old friend.

“...Sleep is not easy here.”

Regis poured two cups from the pot on the table. He pushed one to Crevan.

“...It’s one of Pen’s favorite teas.” He said. “It should help...”  
He took the cup and sat in the chair by the fire. The Higher Vampire took the chair opposite.

“...What woke you, other than the nightmare.”

He took a sip, it tasted of oranges and ginger, he wondered if Pen’s kiss would taste like the tea. He shook himself at the thought.

“Wraiths...” He said. “...Ones I thought long banished.”

Regis looked to the window, a storm had rolled in during the feast and the wind was screaming Beansidhe loud. The sound had awakened the more sensitive of the court, including the twins.

“...Not many are sleeping with the wind screaming around the castle.” Regis said. “It made a lot of people restless.”

Crevan watched the fire dance from the wind down the chimney. The silence was what he needed to ask the question in his head.

“...Do they ever go away?”

Regis sipped his tea. He had a feeling Crevan wasn’t just talking about the nightmares. He had heard the question many times over from those of the table.

“No, they become better, but do not go away...” He said.

The wind howled again, this a wail of pain. This was no natural storm, the Weather Workers would have warned them hours ago.

“...I am walking, what is the expression Lady Thorn uses, The Blade’s Edge.”

Regis watched the Sage rub a spot on his arm, the top layer of skin gone from where he’d peeled it away in madness. He’d talked to the healers, shared their horror at what Crevan had done to himself as the Soul Rot took his mind.

“...I have no intention of seeking out anything, I know how stupid that is.” He continued. “...And I am thankful that I would have to get past you to do it.” He looked at the Higher Vampire. “...I doubt Lady Thorn or his majesty would allow such things in their domain.”

Regis nodded. “...Possession of such things is grounds for banishment from both the High Seat and the Freehold. It does not mean that it does not exist, but the penalties are strict.”

Another wail from the wind, it did sound like a Beansidhe. The unnatural storm growing in intensity.

“It sounds like the world is tearing itself apart out there...” Crevan said, deciding to change the subject. “...Not a good sound...”

“No, it’s not,” Regis said. “...Considering the day was mild, and held no indication of a storm.”

Crevan frowned, that was not something he wanted to hear.

“...It reminds me too much of the Frost, the cold spells the Rider’s used to their advantage...”

Regis paused, he had not thought of that.

“Would your people have Weather Workers?”

“The Aen Saevherne, but most of the sages are in the Court of Thorns,” Crevan said. “And I am here, the remaining ones...” He stopped, the cup falling from his hand to shatter upon the hearth. “Find Lady Thorn, the children, this is a faint...They are attacking the Court of Thorns...”

Regis leaped up and headed out. When one like Crevan said something it was worth heeding.

“I know exactly where she is...”

The vampire vanished into mist, seeking Pen.

The scream of her daughter woke Pen, she leaped from bed throwing on her robe and hurrying toward the Nursery, running into Regis. The Vampire tackled a shadowed figure in the room. Most likely an assassin to cause even more chaos.

“...Get them out...” The guttural growl from the shadows. “Call up the Ravens...”

Pen scooped up her children and fled the room, bringing them to the Royal solar. Regis came in a few moments later, still somewhat transformed.

“...What is going on...” Pen demanded, trying to soothe her daughter.

“Funny dogs...” Deirdra said. “Funny dogs at home...”

That made her go pale, Nuada frowned.

“...Rouse the castle...” He hissed. “Bring me the Sage....intact.”

The order was swiftly carried out.

Crevan had been given enough time to dress in tunic and trousers before two Raven Guard and a Thorn escorted him into the Throne Room. Pen, Nuada, Dain Cecht, Tam Lin, and Regis s waited for him. The Inner court of the High Seat, waiting for answers from him. He was forced to his knees before them as his hands were bound behind him.

“...We managed a message to the Court of Thorns, there was a raid.” Nuada said. “Luckily they did not anticipate the Human merchants there for the Mid-Winter Fair.”

“I have never been so thankful that the merchants are armed.” Pen said. “...There are two prisoners and several dead hounds.” She looked at Crevan, who looked to the floor. “...I need to know if you knew about this prior to the storm...”

He would answer her honestly, it was unlikely that Ge’els would trust him with anything ever again.

“No, it was the wind that reminded me of one the Hunt’s tactics of sending a storm and attacking where it was the most vulnerable. I know how much Ge’els despise you...”

“And the attack has cost him,” Nuada said. “It will cost him more, the merchants carry silver and iron...and projectiles that shatter once inside the body.”

Pen frowned. The loss of life saddened her, but anger had won out over the fact that it had been her home they had gone after.

“Would Ge’els have led this Raid himself?”

Crevan wished to laugh, but that would not help the suspicions they had of him at the moment.

“He would not dirty his hands, he would choose another...” Crevan said. “...Or have the young King choose...”

“...I want you present when we question the captives.” Pen said.

Crevan looked back at the floor, then up at Pen. A choice, answer the pull or betray her once again by omission. Pen knelt, lifting his chin and getting close. Her voice was in his ear, making him tremble.

“...I need you there.” She said, in a low sensual tone. “My fox...”

Something pulled hard, taking hold as she asked him. That something tugged harder.

“Yes...” Escaped his lips, before his mind could decide. “my lady...”

Pen rose, “Take him back to his quarters...Do not let him leave until we are ready to return to the Court of Thorns.”

He had gone limp after she rose from beside him. They picked him up and carried him out.

Nuada knew what Pen had just done, and by the way, she walked toward the windows, it was something she hadn’t wanted to do. He followed and put his hands on her shoulders. She was trembling.

“...I had no choice,” She closed her eyes. “...He is still Aen Saevherne...still Aen Elle...”

He knew what that meant, the Sages were very much about the ends justifying the means. Singers were much like that as well, but it did not mean she had to like the methods.

“You are not Ciri or Lara.” He said. “You owe the Ane Elle nothing, the debt paid long before you were born.”

She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. She’d pulled on the life threads to get an answer, an act that made her feel dirty.

“I know, this is just...Not fair.” Pen said, cringing at her own words. “I sound like Sara...”

He refrained from Jareth’s answer.

“Fate is rarely like that.” He said. “I am beginning to understand why you are finding the choice of having him go through the Bonding difficult...”

She let out a breath, so many answers she needed and could not find to formally accept the bond she felt.

“...I still do not know what made Ciri love him.” She said. “Nor the change of heart that made him betray his own people for her...”

“Love does strange things.” He said. “I may have done the same in his skin. He did tell us of the deception of the Storm...Even if he didn’t know about the raid.” He turned her to face him. “Let us deal with the aftermath of the raid, question the two captives...”

She nodded, “Yes, let’s deal with this...”

He led her back to the assembled group, they were going to have a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the healing sight, a body looks like a network of threads, Pen can "pull" upon them at will. She finds using this skill distasteful.


	9. And you think us children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to the Freehold, an attempt on Pen and Dain Cecht's sharp tongue renders Ge'els speechless.

_Three days later..._

The Weather workers had gotten the storm calmed and dispelled. The Ravens and Bloody Thorns were saddling horses to return to the Court of Thorns. Crevan was already on a horse, his hands tied to the pommel, iron shackles on his wrists. He did not look well, as though he hadn’t slept in the intervening three days. The iron around his wrists did not help, that would need to be treated once they were back at the Freehold.

“He insisted on the shackles,” Tam said, his helm tied to the back of his saddle. “...A show of good faith I suspect, but he’d puked twice. I wanted to have one of the healers ride double with him, he refused.”

Pen watched, thinking of what Regis said, about the distance between Crevan and Ciri in later years.

“A crown for your thoughts Milady,” Aethen said, riding up to her a bit later.

She sighed, realizing Regis knew more about the Sage than he’d let on.

“...I am thinking of something Regis said, about Lady Ciri.” She said. “I do not know if he was editing the truth of it...”

Aethen adjusted himself in his saddle.

“The vampire has been with the Guild since its founding, it would stand that some of your practices would rub off.” He said. “And if he did it was for good reason, as the reasons may have been private at the time.”

She looked to where Crevan was swaying between two Raven Guard. One had a strong grip on his arm to keep him upright. He looked even worse than when they had departed.

“...He’s barely in the saddle, but refuses someone riding double.” Aethen said. “I cannot tell if he’s punishing himself...or he’s that much out of his mind.”

She turned back to him. “Out of his mind?”

Aethen’s expression said volumes as to what Crevan had been out of his mind on. She was going to personally skin the bastard who had smuggled it into him, more out of her not thinking about what her little demonstration would have done.

“Regis was swearing this morning, it seems our dear Sage was an addict once upon a time.” He said. “He got his hands on some...Don’t know what. He was drugged to the gills when the guards checked on him yesterday.” He frowned. “He’s been on watch since then, and we are looking for the one who snuggled it into him. Those two are of the table, volunteered to make sure he didn’t go wandering off.”

She knew what that meant. He wasn’t going anywhere alone for a while, even to the privy. Those of the table could be near fanatical in preventing their brethren from using again.

“He was sober enough to ask to be shackled. Though he won’t be thankful when we get him back to the Freehold.” Aethen said. “...He isn’t going to like the rest of the trip in a few minutes either...”

She saw one of the healers ride up beside the trio and near force something down Crevan’s throat. She knew what it was just by the healer’s expression.

“...That is cruel.” She said. “He won’t stop puking the rest of the way...”

“...And you need him with enough of his wits to question the captives.” Aethen reminded her. “It won’t delay us long, himself ordered it...”

She watched the sage lean over the side of the horse and vomit. She turned her attention away and continued on.

The Freehold welcomed the extra guards from the Royal Seat among their garrison. The healers took Crevan from the horse and into a secured room in the Manse. Pen took the extra time to see to the horses before entering the Manse. She did not want to think of the fact that her pulling on the threads had possibly caused enough trauma to drive Crevan to drug himself. One of the healers was waiting for her, report on the two captives in their hands.

“...The wounds went Septic almost immediately.” The healer said. “We won’t be able to question them for a few days...”

She frowned, this was not good news.

“Any other casualties?”

“A few sword wounds, hound bites...The merchants want them hanged.”

“Well, they’ll have to wait in line.” Pen said. “...His majesty’s representatives will want to question them beforehand...”

“That can be arranged.” He said. “...As to the Sage, we gave him a bath and another dose along with treating the iron burns...suffice to say I did not know a mage could swear like that...”

She knew Crevan would not be in good shape coming out of the purging, for either the iron or whatever he’d zonked himself with.

Regis resisted snapping at Pen when she came to see him. He should have paid a bit more attention, especially after she’d pulled on the threads. He knew it was a skill she did not like to use. He knew she blamed herself for the incident, but she could not have known how deteriorated the damaged nerves had become.

“...You should have told me,” Pen said. “I would have asked for watchers, pulled a little more gentle...”

“And I was a fool not to think of them,” Regis said. “I did not think what pulling on the threads would do to him...”

“I did not either.” She said. “I did not enjoy it, but I needed his answer.”

“You knew we were being spied on, you had to give them a reason to suspect we did not trust him.”

“I’ll have to keep that illusion until he either asks for Sanctuary or takes the oath...” She said. “I wish the Aen Elle to know there is a price to enter the Court of Thorns...”

Regis knew what Pen was talking of, The one countermeasure that was the reason no one could portal into the Freehold. He would rather not activate that particular artifact if they did not have to.

“...Activate them, and you’ll give any magickal being within a mile of the Freehold fits.” He reminded her.

“They are a resort of war...” She said. “I was not talking of the generators.” She drew out an ancient key. “...I was talking of the Crystals.” She set the hey in his hand. “As the oldest and wisest, I leave that decision to you...”

The words and giving him the key made sure the Crystals could not be misused. She had already left by the time he realized what she was asking.

Pen moved in the grace of the ‘dance’ blindfolded, letting her other senses guide her movement and blades. She needed to focus on something other than the problems on her doorstep for a little while. There were few options and she did not think it wise to get into bed while her mind was so distracted. She finished one ‘dance’ and moved into another. She was drenched in sweat when she was finished. She took off her blindfold to meet the gaze of a young Sidhe dressed in the Royal livery.

“...Urgent news from the Royal Seat.” He held out a sealed piece of parchment.

She sniffed the air, watched how the young sidhe handled the parchment. She took it carefully, she knew the Viceroy was a manipulator and not above false information. The young sidhe bowed out, leaving her to read the parchment. She tucked it away if it was booby-trapped she wanted to be in a place that was safe to detonate it.

The Workroom was layered in enough shields to make it feel like being under a heavy blanket within the room. It was one of the rooms they trained young Singers in, nothing to fly off or break. She was also shielded, as were Tam and Regis. She carefully opened the parchment, The seal had looked wrong and luckily she was shielded. The parchment went up in flame as soon as the seal broke, she would have been badly burned or worse.

“...I want his head.” She hissed stomping away from the smoldering work table. “Both of them...”

Regis moved out of the way, Tam just turned a pale shade as his mother passed.

Nuada was amused when he heard of her words, at this point he would have granted her both attached so she could remove them herself. The Viceroy was there demanding the return of his people, refusing to deal with Pen for their return.

“...They raided the Freehold, her domain...” Nuada said. “It should be her you should be demanding Wergeld from, not me...”

“You are King, she is your subject...”

He did not know Pen very well, she obeyed more requests from him as her husband than as King.

“I will emphasize Freehold...” Nuada said. “She is not my subject, a noble in this court yes but not my subject.”

“...You let a human dictate your actions.”

He was not going to rise to that bait, the fact that Pen was human did not influence him when it came to his court.

“For one who does not think much of humans, Lord Ge’els, you are behaving like one who has had their toys taken away.” Dain Cecht said.

He watched the Viceroy’s mouth work, rendered speechless. Dain was hiding a smile, as representative of House DeRosin on the council he had to be at Court for this.

~Good, because I’m not the only one who thinks you are acting like a brat.~ Nuada thought.

“You speak out of turn, Lord DeRosin...”

“I speak for my mother, and what I said is exactly what she would have...” He said. “You demand and expect us to Cow to you, we are no longer the people you abandoned...”

“Lord DeRosin,” Nuada said, his tone one of warning.

Dain fell silent, while the Aen Elle continued to bargain.

Nuada followed behind Dain Cecht as the young Singer stomped down the corridor to the Solar. He could see what he wanted to do to the Viceroy. He took off his lenses and slumped into a chair.

“...He acted l-like a c-child denied a t-treat.” Dain said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “...When it was his r-riders who raided u-us...”

Dain did not stutter anymore unless tired or stressed, Nuada guessed after that meeting his son was a bit of both.

“...And you wonder why I go about dressed as a commoner and hide in the Orb-Weaver as much as I can.”

“I always th-thought it was Atara’s thing...” He said. “I c-can also see why T-Tam said no...”

“...You could have too.”

“And t-turn down th-the intrigue...” He rubbed his temples, biting his lip. “...D-damn, C-c-can't th-think...”

“Have you eaten anything since before the meeting...or drink?”

Dain shook his head, “...T-to b-b-busy.”

“...Rest your voice." Nuada told him. “I'll get us some food...”

Dain nodded, that sounded good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dain Cecht stutters due to a curse laid upon him by Nuada when he was in the womb, he can control it to an extent but if he is stressed or extremely tired it reemerges. I'll post the beginning of this saga as soon as I can....


	10. Not the first

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crevan recovers from his near overdose and gets a physical from Pen and ends up with a reaction he does not expect. also, a house long-hidden decides to make discreet contact with the Court of Thorns

_Back at the Freehold..._

Crevan sat by the hearth, a blanket over his shoulders. He was unaware of the three in the room with him. The purging had wrought havoc on him, the twitching of his fingers and tics were highly pronounced. The fool move of drugging himself to the gills had not helped his case in the eyes of the healers. It also had restricted the medicines they could use to ease the misfires of his now further damaged nerves.

“...Get him to eat, he’s about four stone short of healthy...though I suspect he was never much for eating, Sage and all.” The healer said. “His mind will take a bit to reconnect, and the nerve damage is a bit worse...”

Regis frowned, “...The healing sleep?”

“We could, but that would only make waking him all the more troublesome. Considering how deep we would have to place him, it could take days for him to be fully aware.” The healer said. “...It will be a few hours before he knows anyone’s here as it is.”

Regis looked at the third in the room, one of the table who had volunteered to sit with a fellow brother.

“...I do not mind the duty a bit longer.” He said. “If I wasn’t here, I’d be in the garrison with little to do, and well...This could easily have been me or anyone of my brothers...”  
Regis nodded. “...Lady Pen is coming to look him over, as she has experience with Soul Rot. This little...misstep...may have set back the healing.”

The healer had to agree, this had complicated things.

Pen frowned when she came, Regis and the watcher greeted her. She looked beyond them to look at Crevan, mug in his hands. She looked to the Higher vampire. He shook his head slightly.

“...You got him to eat, that is good.” She said.

“Not much, just some broth and grain bread,” Regis said. “I don’t think he could eat more than that, despite what the healers say.”

“We’ll work him up to a good meal.” She said. “...I need to see him, all of him...”

The watcher made some excuse, as she had prodded him the same way not too long ago. He did not want to watch another. Crevan raised his head when she approached, he stood and let the blanket around his shoulders drop.

He stood naked before her, letting her see the devastation he’d wrought upon himself. She frowned as she studied what was left of a beautiful pattern on his skin, her hands began at his face. He felt goose flesh rise at her touch though she seemed detached in her inspection. She was looking at him as a healer first and foremost, but the touch felt intimate at the same time. When she knelt to inspect his legs, he turned slightly from her, not wanting to show her the reaction to her touch. She was careful as she laid her hands on his upper thigh, feeling his cock brush against the back of her hand.

“It is naught that I have not seen before...” She said, running her hands over his legs. “Though I am flattered you think so well of me...”

A slight blush came to his skin, almost like he was a youth again rather than a mature male.

“...Everything seems stable.” She said, standing. “A bit of exercise and food...and we will address the other problems as they come...”

He nearly set himself on fire manifesting his clothes so fast. Pen’s hidden smile said she liked the eyeful she’d gotten.

“We will start with exercise...” Pen said. “Tomorrow...”

She departed stopping beside Regis, whispering something to him before she vanished out of the room.

Aethen watched her walk quickly toward her study, he followed. It was when they were behind a close door that she began to laugh. It appeared she had not wished to bruise the sage’s ego or some such nonsense.

“...Oh, gods...” She said between laughs. “I hope he didn’t set anything on fire...”

He raised an eyebrow, she didn’t usually laugh at another embarrassment. It must have been the speed in which it happened that amused her.

“So he popped a boner for you...and got embarrassed. If that makes you giddy I should do that more often...”

She threw the squish ball from her desk at him.

“...Missed me, Wench...” He said as he dogged it.

She flew at him and tackled him to the ground, ending up with her sitting on his chest.

“You were saying...” She said before she moved.

He rolled and put her beneath him for a few moments.

“Going to see himself tonight?” He said. “I saw a little more than you did...you’ll have a fun time with him when he chooses.”

“I want him decently healthy before then...” She got up from his lap and offered her hand to help him up. “...I still do not know how to feel, since I already have my hands full with you and Nuada...”

He sighed as he came to his feet, “I know, little Pearl, it will work out...and you will find comfort in however it falls.” He kissed her forehead. “...And I will be there to shine in the darkness for you.”

She sighed, smiling. He backed from her, he had paperwork for his own guild that he had to deal with.

_In Crevan’s quarters..._

The Sage sat and retrieved his mug, that had been strange. Such an intimate but detached touch. It was even stranger that he’d reacted, Ciri had been the only human woman who had attracted him, and that had been because of her resemblance to Lara. He looked at Regis, then back down at his mug. Her touch made him think of the sweet she had offered him before the fair. He had fled then, out of fear to cross a line he should not.

“You’re not the only one who reacted like that when she inspected them,” Regis said. “His majesty did the same...Though I admit you look better than he did when she finally got to inspect him.”

“That was...Uncomfortable...” Crevan said.

~But why do I want her to touch me like that again...~ He though. ~Preferably with her naked as well...~

“As I said, not the first,” Regis said as if reading his mind. “Come to the hall tonight, there is a table there...you have others.”

He turned to see the watcher returning, seeming less tense without Pen in the room.

“Our Friend will bring you...” Regis said. “I’ll see you tonight...”

The Higher Vampire stopped to talk a moment to the watcher before departing.

_Later that evening..._

Crevan was surprised by the others at the table. There was a healer, a merchant, Several Thorns, Ravens, a noble and Regis. Some had known the same demon as he, others a different species but the same class of demon. Each spoke of the struggle, The request not to be left alone for one reason or another. They spoke of arrangements, for new brothers who would ask for help when ready.

The healer had taken one look at him and bluntly said he wouldn’t wake for a month if he was so stupid as he'd been again. The others confirmed that threat, as one or two had experienced it. They talked for most of the night, with his watcher escorting him back to the guest quarters after they were done. He had tried to assure his watcher he wasn’t going anywhere, but it was clear the other male had heard that bullshit before. He wrapped himself in a blanket while his watcher settled in by the hearth.

Crevan woke from a very erotic dream, groaning. He had almost slunk to the privy to resolve his problem, but he wasn’t about to bring himself to such base action. He rose and put on clothing, he wasn’t about to parade around. He looked at the hearth, his watcher was intent on the flames.

“...Need the privy?”

He sighed. “A cold walk more or less...”

His watcher rose, “OK, I know a few cold corridors...they’ll shrink anything...”

The corridors were very cold, and what he needed.

_The next morning..._

Pen watched as Crevan and his watcher came to breakfast. The watcher was pointing out things that wouldn’t wreak too much havoc with his digestion but would help ease the gnawing hunger he’d undoubtedly face.

“...They were up very early.” Aethen said, sitting beside her. “It seems your inspection affected the sage more than he realized.”

“He is not the first...” She said. “...has Rhiannon found anything interesting.”

“One of the Aen Saevherne, they asked for a meeting with you...did not wish to alert his fellows...”

“One that belongs?”

“Hard to tell, Rhi only had a few hours with him...”

“...Arrange it, but have the thorns remove him from his quarters...I’m sure it will scare any conspirators...”

“As the lady wishes.” He said. “I will make sure we do the same to Crevan...to enforce out “mistrust’ of the elder sage...”

She nodded, this morning would be a telling one.


	11. And if I had known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crevan finds out there was a second line of the Elder Blood, that Lara lied to protect a child and the realization of what he would have done if he'd known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tartan of the Court of thorns is crimson, bone white and black and usually worn as a sash or a fly plaid secured with either a ring brooch or one with a personal device.

Both Crevan and the Younger Sage were dragged out of their quarters protesting as they were shackled and led down the hall by several Thorns. Aethen led the Thorns in their ‘raid’ on the rooms. They were brought to the Workroom, where Pen sat behind the still charred table. The looks on two faces said much.

“...Forgive the rough treatment, we have spies among us that would seek this Court’s destruction.” Pen said as they were released. “I had to ensure that this remained between us.”

Crevan noticed Pen was wearing the Court Plaid along with her brooch, so this was business of The Freehold and not a Royal decision. She looked much like she had when he first met her in Ciri’s company.

“I was informed you wished to speak to me...”

The young Sage reached into his tunic and laid a sheaf of papers upon the work table. A brooch was laid on top. She reached forward carefully, the brooch was that of a tower surrounded by Gulls, she had seen this in her research.

“My Lord wished for the Singer’s Guild to have these things, they are from Tor Lara...before its destruction.”

Pen’s face remained blank as she calmly looked over the items, softly humming as she did so. Confirming they were safe she looked to the young Sage.

“...An elaborate way to have me put something in the archive...” She said. “What else...”

“Ah to the point.” He set two daggers on the table. “...My Lord also wished to warn you, those were meant for the hearts of your children...”

Pen’s face drew into a frown, the air around her almost seemed to crackle.

“And you have them, Why?”

The young sage backed up a step from the table, Crevan did the same but two.

“I come from the House of the Gull...” He said. “I was assigned to protect my Lord’s Kinswoman and her family...”

The look on Crevan’s face said he hadn’t any clue that Lara had any descendants other than Ciri’s bloodline. Though he had known when he’d seen Pen and her children they were of the Elder Blood, to find it was from a second bloodline. He backed up a few more paces, the shock was written on his face.

“...For now, My Lord wishes to remain unknown to both courts.” He said, then turned to Crevan. “My Lord will be delighted to host you for a short while, under the promise of secrecy...”

Crevan could only nod, the shock of it still written on his face.

“I think we should conclude this without Master Crevan present...” Pen said.

Aethen nodded and took the elder sage away.

Aethen returned Crevan to his quarters and told the Watcher to be extra careful, to call on Regis if he needed too. He was barely aware of his watcher locking the door from the outside. He slumped heavily into the Hearth chair. He’d had a child...by Lara. There was no other explanation for the second bloodline. She’d had a child before Rhiannon, one she’d hidden from him and the whole of their race.

The spark of anger soon replaced shock, and the room took the brunt. Rage faded into sadness, regret and the sharp knowledge of what would have happened to the child if they had been known. The gate would have been opened, another slaughter and enslavement...and he would have ridden proudly at the head as he had done when they stole the world they had settled. He stumbled to the door and pounded upon stout oak. His watcher answered.

“I...I...don't think I should be alone right now.” He choked out.

The watcher nodded. “...Let’s go for a walk...”

The corridors had never seemed so long as that night.

Their walk ended in the Grand Hall, and the sound of a Fiddle, playing something low and mournful. The Table was empty, save for Regis discussing something with The Healer. They both looked up as they came in. The need to talk must have been upon his face as they made room and let the music fill the silence until he was ready to speak.

It was a long night with much silence before he returned to his quarters to find it righted and a pot of tea on a warmer by the hearth. A letter lay on the table next to the mug, waiting for him. The young sage must have had it ready with him. He took a look at the letter addressed to the name he’d buried with Ciri. He could not read it yet. He changed out of his clothing and poured himself some tea, already sweetened with honey he found. He sat picking up the letter and began to read.

The mug grew cold beside him as he read, a Telling of a life in hiding and exile. He finished and folded it neatly, setting it aside for his mug. The knowledge came sharp again, he’d a son. He knew he would have used the boy, and also used the adult male the boy became. The bitter prick of guilt touched his heart. What would he say to Ciri’s son, to his children? He did not blame the elder child for wanting to remain hidden. The knock startled both he and his watcher.

The being on the other side surprised them, Pen dressed in Nightclothes. The watcher nodded at her and nodded as he left to sit outside. She locked the door and came to sit in the chair opposite him. He licked his lips, seeing her made his heart clench.

“...Should Milady not be in her husband’s chamber at this hour.” He said.

She inclined her head, acknowledging his discomfort.

“He knows well where I am.” She said, arranging a blanket around herself. “And I only desire your company tonight and not your bed.” She pulled up her legs to cover them with the blanket. “And your watcher is outside the door.”

Without a word, He rose and picked her up from the chair. His strength surprised her, as did his action. He carried back to his chair to sit in his lap, arranging the blanket between them.

“It is warmer here...” He said. “Closer to the fire...”

There was a comfortable silence as she sat there leaning against him.

“...Tell me about her...” Pen said, a little while later.

“Of who?” He asked he was dozing off. “...Cân FY nghalon.”

She realized he was very much relaxed to say that. He probably wouldn’t remember saying that to her.

“Lara...” She said. “My ancestress...”

He held her a bit tighter against him, there was comfort in holding her. The “story” would distract him from the woman in his lap, give him a chance to just talk.

“She was a princess, something I as a lowly Rider and apprentice could never have dreamed to be promised to...” He said. “I was drawn into the inner circle of the court, there I developed a taste for the poison that plagues me still. Being promised did not mean we had to wait to be wed...I loved her when she ran off and fell in love with another...I loved her still.”

“...You didn't know.” Pen prompted.

“No, I was off with the Riders...their chief navigator.” He said. “...I returned to find she had fallen for a human mage...and forever out of the Aen Elle’s reach. I believed in what my king wanted...until Ciri came. I thought I was looking at a Ghost.” He sighed. “I will admit she angered me with some word, my hand went around her throat. I do not know what made me stop...”

He fell into silence, she let him. She wouldn't push him to tell her the story, that what was she was asking for, a “story”.

“Tell me of your Husband.” He said finally. “and why he would let you offer comfort to another male...”

“He is good and loving, knows I have no taste for pomp and polish.” She said. “He knows there are lines neither of us will cross...” She stroked the arm that held her. “...and you belong...”

He had said many words, and with a few, she had taken a burden from his shoulders. He leaned in and kissed her, shifting her in his lap to face him. She broke the kiss, reaching up to touch his cheek. She shook her head. She could not do this without the Oaths the binding required.

“No,” She said. “Crevan...not without your oath.”

He laid his forehead against hers, breath trembling. His oath, of his blood and then he could give the one he wished to give of his body. Another kiss, hungrier than the previous one, he broke it this time.

“Tell me again...” He whispered. “Remind me...”

“No...” She said softly, but with conviction.

He closed his eyes tight, not wanting to see those green eyes that said she was of her blood.

“Again, please...” He breathed. “My heart song.”

She lightly kissed the corner of his mouth.

“No, my fox...it is not time yet.”

His hands shifted, pulling her closer so she lay against his chest.

“...I took her to the place of the end.” He said. “Bedded her in front of a fire, promising her...”

He was talking of Ciri, of where he’d lost his heart to her.

“...I did not know of the bond it would forge.” He said. “Or the fire it sparked...” He stroked her hair. “It was not until after the Frost that she acknowledged me, called me her lover.” He looked down at her. “...I was unworthy when she told me of our child.”

He closed his eyes again and just held her. She could feel him, reaching out. He let her go.

“Please, seek your own bed Milady...I fear I may cross a line that should not be crossed if you remain...”

She moved from his lap and leaned to kiss his temple. He let her slide from his hands, sighing with the kiss. Then she was gone, and his watcher was back sitting in the chair opposite.


	12. First and last...

Pen went into the Grand Hall, she did not think it a good idea to go into an empty bed still vibrating with the need she’d absorbed. Aethen was there, holding a bottle of Regis’ hooch. He knew very well what she was feeling, his own bond to her was vibrating like a plucked lutestring. He tried to be his usual self, but he knew they were walking a fine edge even being in the same room after her little kiss and cuddle with Crevan.

“...I’d offer to take you over one of the tables, but I like my balls where they are and Tin does too.:” He offered her the bottle. “...So I say a few shots and portal to the Royal seat...give himself a thrill...”

“and if I ordered you as your queen to fuck me like a wench...” She said as she pulled him close.

“I’d tie you up and carry you there myself, but I’d need brain bleach after...” He teased, offering her the bottle again. “Drink...”

She took it and a few swigs later was sneaking through the darkened Royal Suite to crawl in beside her husband.

Nuada woke that morning to find Pen sprawled beside him, he got up long enough to tell the servants not to disturb them until well past noon. He returned and pulled her against him.

“...What has brought you home mo amhrán...” He whispered.

She pulled him down to release the hunger she still felt, he let it flow through him. He broke the kiss with a very male laugh.

“You went to see the Fox last night...” He laughed when she ended up on top of him. “...And you taste of Mandrake Hooch...”

She rolled off to lay at his side.

“...Gods, he kisses like...” She said, not to sound like she was Cuckolding him. “...he’ll be fun to tease after...”

“If that was all from a Kiss...” Nuada teased. “I should let you...”

She swatted him with a pillow. His laughter distracted her enough for him to place her beneath him. He pinned her arms kissing her.

“But truly...” He said. “If I reap the benefit...”

“You know he’ll be as possessive as you...” She said. “And maybe yet more...”

He shifted his body to nestle between her thighs, where he knew black stars marked her skin. He knew the potential price of the bonding, he had been lucky with Aethen as the male had a husband by the time the binding came.

“I could be persuaded by my lady to share...” He teased, the words ending on a groan as she had reached down to stroke and squeeze. “But not if you’re going to do that...”

She shifted to take him, moaning softly as he slid in. A few thrusts to seat himself, pulling her up against him.

“...Let us discuss this later...” She moaned.

“As my queen wishes...” He said.

He thrust deep and smiled. She pulled him down, wrapping her legs around him.

He began slow thrusts, knowing her nails would be dug into his flesh. A bit of pain with pleasure. He pulled her tight against his body, bowing his head to take a nipple in his mouth and suck. He knew this would not be enough, not for him or her. He shifted to sit on his heels pulling her against him with each thrust.

“Beloved...Croí Airgid.” She moaned out, pricking her nails behind his ears drawing out a hiss of pain. “Surrender to me...”

He thrust harder, giving her what she desired of him. She wanted him Feral, wild and unthinking of little else but rutting. He growled deep in his chest, it was easy for him to become that male with her. He exposed his throat, knowing she’d claim him as her own. He hissed as she bit, not hard yet. She held on to him, tasting his pulse against her tongue. He made a sound knowing he was close, her teeth closed on his flesh hard. He let her go, letting her ride him to her own desire before seeking his own.

He eased her to the mattress as he finished, letting her release her hold on him. He rolled, groaning. It had been a long time since she’d bit him that hard, He checked to see there was no blood. He’d have a hell of a bruise. He kissed her, letting her know he was ok. He rolled off and put his arms above his head. She moved to sit astride him reaching up to the restraints fastened in the shadows and secured him.

“Take your pleasure...” He said.

And She began to do just that.

Crevan was disappointed that Pen was not at breakfast. He had wanted to talk to her, to clear his head. He could still feel the kiss on his lips, her weight on his lap. Those sensations had been enough fuel another erotic dream. This time he had slunk off to the privy. His watcher had taken one look at his expression and said he’d wait outside.

He Saw Aethen approach and sit down, the Half-elf was usualy Pen’s shadow. He wondered where she could have gone without him.

“...She is at the Royal seat.” Aethen said. “...in his majesty’s bed no doubt...won’t be back until late.”

Crevan looked into his breakfast, only half listening.

“...She tasted of honey and Earl Gray when I first kissed her.” He continued. “And of rose petals the last...”

He turned to look at the other male, he knew Aethen prefered his own gender evident in the male Tindel. The subject seemed to come out of nowhere, but then again the Half-elf was one of her closest companions.

“...who?”

“Lady Pen...” Aethen said. “When I took The bonding.”

Crevan frowned, his eyes hard as if he wanted to take the butter knife and jam it into his gut.

“Your expression reminds me of Himself when Lord Lochain told him about it.” HE said, laughter in his voice. “...It took him a bit to agree to the reasons it was to be done. My ultimate oath is to the High King, to see his queen safe.” He touched the scar that ran the edge of his cheeks and bridge of his nose. ‘As it it to others of this court.”

Crevan's hand shook, he set down the spoon before it became impossible to eat.

“...You feel the pull, I saw it when you told us of the raid.” Aethen said. “...there is no shame in that, nor in the wanting.”

"...She is..." Crevan said. “...married.”

Aethen knew that was the fear, that Nuada would be angered. The other male would not be comfortable with it, but would understand. He’d have more trouble since he would be interacting with Crevan on a daily basis, Nuada would not.

“She is also something rare, like your Ciri...” Athen said softly. “...Something Lord Lochain wished to protect once it became clear she belonged to the then Prince...”

“...There is a price?”

“Yes, pain or blood,” Aethen said. “The mate of the chosen lady is allowed one blow in retaliation. I thought Himself would have gutted me, instead he marked me, Royal.” He touched where a patch of skin had been removed to allow for the thorn’s mark. “I was given to The Thorns, the guards charged with the protection of The Black Rose.”

"What is a Black Rose, I've never heard of this term...or seen such in either realm."

Aethen smiled, something the Aen Saevherne didn’t know.

“The mortal lover that has a soul bond or a life bond to one of the Royal house.” He said. “It was when Lochain realized that of Pen...I volunteered. I thought it better it be someone she could trust.” He took in a breath. “...Three days are all you’ll ever spend in her bed, never beyond that...”

Crevan frowned anew if he chose that path...three days did not seem enough. Aethen saw the struggle to process it.

“...For all I love Tindel, there are days I would that she take me to her bed again.” He confessed. "...It is not easy, thus not a common path chosen to join a court."

“Are there any others?”

“No, as I said it is not an easy path.” He said, rising. “...I will be available if you wish to ask more.”

Crevan was left to absorb the knowledge and ends that path would bring him.

Pen returned to the Manse at dinner time, to be told Aethen wanted to see her in her study. She went straight there, finding him already two shots into a bottle of “dragon's kiss”.

“...I talked to Crevan of the bonding.” He said. “I had not realized it would bring up feelings I had thought faded to comfortable familiarity...”

She touched his face, in another life, he could have been her lover. Both knew that was not the path they were to share, thus their comfort with each other.

“...I thought you'd exercise them with Tin.”

“I tried.” He said. “...I could damn Lochain for this...”

"Yet you won't..." She said, moving to sit in his lap facing him.

He let out a sigh, contact would ease the ache.

“You did not tell him that my bed isn’t what the bonding is about...”

“No, I don’t think he is ready to hear that part.” He said, setting down the shot glass. “...nor the struggle it will be not to give in...” He shifted his hands to her hips pulling her close. “...I could find a secret place...”

She placed her hands on his shoulders, shaking her head.

“...No." She said. "I will not subject you to the price of it.”

That had been something else he had not told Crevan. The price for asking for her bed again after those three days, it was not forbidden but the price steep and thus discouraged.

“...Think of Tindel.” She told him shifting to be more comfortable. “Would you wish him to see you bloodied?”

There was the question that brought him enough space to think.

“He’d castrate you this time...” She reminded him. “...And you and Tin are thinking of children...”

He shifted his hips upward, once, twice before groaning in resignation.

“Kiss me...” He begged, knowing that beyond that he couldn’t ask for anything without a price.

She did so, letting it turn to hunger before pulling away. He pulled her back again for another. The third they backed from each other. He rose and adjusted himself, Tin was going to have a good night.

“I...will see you...at breakfast.”

She let him walk away, wondering how she was going to be able to do that and get Crevan to walk away each time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mo amhrán:(Irish) my songbird, Nuada's endearment for Pen...  
> Dragon's Kiss: Spicy hooch. A blend of sweet mead, ginger, cinnamon, and chili pepper...Very spicy and can be overly so if not blended properly...Made by the students of the Manse school...  
> Croí Airgid: (irish) Silver Heart, Pen's endearment for Nuada.


	13. Choices and oaths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nuada makes a choice to make Crevan a lord of one of the courts and Pen's acknowledged lover to hopefully bring peace. Crevan takes his blood oath to the Court, and to his queen.

Nuada found Pen back at the Royal Seat, in her usual place to brood. He noticed a nice bottle of Muscato had been brought up from the cellar for her. He knew what vexed her enough to come to the Window seat now.

“...Aethen.” He said. “You always drink sweet when you have to deal with him.”

She shifted so he could sit behind her as usual. He settled behind her, his back against the cool stone.

“He talked to Crevan about the bonding, and it brought up old feelings.” She said. “...I had to remind him of what he would lose if he chose another night in my bed.”

Nuada smiled, she would have to spare the Half-elf from the flogging he’d receive for it. Not to mention the second blow he’d be owed.

“But not before teasing the hell out of him, or he out of you.” He called up a glass to pour some of the sweet wine for himself. “...But that is not the reason you are here, You can deal with your bond guard quite well on your own...”

“...No, I realized something...” She said. “And it divides my feelings.”

“Other lifetimes?” He asked.

She had talked much of how she could have made a life with Aethen and Tindel after she had been made queen. It wasn’t to hurt him or give him a thrill, but to straighten out some boundary he’d wanted since her ascension.

“...Perhaps.” She said.. “...I know the possessiveness levels of Royal Fey.”

He smiled as he sipped the wine, He could be very possessive.

“...Crevan is noble, not Royal...” He said. “But yes this is a puzzle. Aethen may be expressing his own possessiveness by dragging up old feelings.” He settled himself more against the stone. “I know how I would show mine...”

Yes, she knew exactly how he did, that had been an embarrassing thrill to be found in the Throne Room with just a blanket and about a dozen roses for cover. He’d carried her out wearing nothing but a smirk that said it was good to be the king.

“I had considered that.” She said. “And he admitted to such with telling Crevan of the bonding.”

He could feel her trying to sort out this thorny problem. He knew she had never expected another bond, let alone another male to deal with.

“Then what stops you from arranging the rite?” He asked. “You already have my permission, and I can easily choose the price...Pain I think this time.”

“There is something else...something I’m missing about this.” She said. “Like I don’t have all the pieces and I don’t want to dredge up anymore hurt...”

“Yes, I heard.” He said. “I too was visited by an Aen Saevherne, with artifacts from Tor Lara, earlier this day.”

She thought of this, “After so many thousands of years, why?”

“You are a queen, Lara would have been queen...”

“And Crevan would be King.” She smiled. “No, he would have still been Avallac’h then...”

He smiled, thinking of a way to make the rite a formality for both her sanity and his own. Yes, there was a way, acknowledge him as her lover.

“Summon him here...Tonight.” He said.

She turned slightly to look at him. She felt what he intended. It would be dangerous, but give the Aen Elle a reason for peace if one of their own became part of the High Court.

“Are you sure of this path.” She said. “To make him my acknowledged lover...”

He finished his own glass and poured more.

“You are High Queen, you take lovers as you wish...” He said. “At least by the old law. Half the nobles still think I wed you for the alliances it gave me. Why else would I have granted you your own lands and Manse...”

She thought of it, not the way she wanted to have Crevan in her court but they were already dancing the Blade’s Edge having him reside in the Manse proper and not with the other Sages. The Aen Elle already thought him a trader, tainted due to his love for Ciri...

“They will think you would do the same.” She said. “I can ask Rhi to play mistress. Aiden would get a kick out of it.”

He let out a laugh, he knew the Half-Elven woman as Pen’s Spy Mistress and her reputation a bit of fabrication but had not known who had written the satires associated with her “Conquests”.

“Aiden the bard, that is her life partner?”

“You didn’t know...”

“I had thought it was a singer’s information that embarrassed that particular lord...”

“No that was all Rhi and Aiden...” She said. “It's the reason they make a good team and Rhi a good Spy Mistress...”

He held her as they fell into a comfortable silence.

_A short while later..._

Nuada smirked when he showed her the circlet, of thorns and black roses. He’d made it shortly after she’d told him of her feelings for the Sage. Lover or not he intended for Crevan to become part of a court, and what better than hers. He had clothing made as well, one set for this night and the other for when she officially bonded. The final piece was a set of clasps, inlaid with aquamarine.

“...The Viceroy is going to have a Stroke...” She said as she looked over the items.

“My intention, and to make my queen happy. I know you would not dress your lover in less than this.”

She ran her hand over the delicate inlay on the circlet.

“No, I would not.” She said. “Do you wish me to actually bed him tonight?”

Nuada paused, Did you wish illusion or give her the chance to sort out the three bonds she would be carrying.

“Offer him the sweet again...”

She nodded, it would be Crevan's choice. She took one of his hands and kissed the palm, the raised scar from his own oath to her.

“...What will you give him?” He asked. “A lover must be gifted well...”

She reached up to touch the fading bruise on his throat, he covered hers with his own.

“...I do not know yet, but it will make it more believable that he’s been thoroughly bedded.”

He kissed her, then backed away. They had a ball to quickly throw together.

Crevan frowned as he was bundled on a horse with his belongings. He was informed very publicly he was being summoned to the High Court, but not the reason. Aethen was coming with him if the half-elf knew he was not saying.

“...Who can say of the High Court’s whims.” Aethen said. “It was their majesties orders.”

That did not help after he was funneled to a suite of rooms in the Royal Wing the moment he arrived. He found Pen there, sitting at a table with a meal laid out.

“What is the meaning of this...” He demanded as the door was locked behind him.

She rose and met him halfway, leaning up to kiss the side of his mouth in greeting as one would greet a lover. She put a finger to his lips, silencing his protests.

“...Eat, and then you will be dressed to attend me at court.”

She moved past him and went out one of the doors in the back of the room. He looked to the table what had just happened.

He ate, though his stomach did not like the idea. There was something dangerous being played out around him. Finishing what he could of the meal, he was shown the bathing room. A sunken tub filled with steaming water waited.

He washed the road from his skin, reminded of his own Self Destruction. The clothing was of silk, damask, and fine fabric, reminding him of another time. He was plunked down and his hair brushed, trimmed and the braids woven with a silver chain connecting to inlaid clasps at each end.

The male looking back at him from the mirror reminded him of another life he could have lived, as consort to a queen. A ring that looked of thorns and roses was placed upon his left hand, along with the return of his brooch, now inlaid with ruby and emerald. The plaid of the thorn court was draped before the brooch fastened it in place and a black leather belt with tooling placed around his waist.

He was led out to the throne room under the guard of two of the bloody thorn, Pen’s personal guard. They paused, to be announced he did not believe the title that came from the herald’s mouth.

“Lord Crevan Espane Aep Caomhan Macha, Lord of the Court of thorns, advisor, and companion to the High Queen.”

He was ushered into the whirl of what looked like an impromptu ball. It took him a few moments to process what the herald had said. Companion, a plight court term for something short of a consort when applied to a male, at least to what he knew. He’d basically been introduced to the court as Pen’s lover. To that end, the thorns escorted him to a seat slightly below that of the young Princes and princesses. Nuada acknowledged him, a sign that he approved of this. Something he had never expected from the High king. It was a little while later the tap of the steward’s staff silenced the room.

Pen rose from her seat, descending to where Crevan was. She held out her hand, without thought he took it, rising. She led him to the foot of the dais where two men in the leathers of her personal guard came with some items resting on velvet. One a circlet of silver, roses inlaid with a stone so dark they looked black bloomed along its circumference, the other a blade to confer his blood oath to the court. He looked at the items and then at her, he thought of the night she’d come to him. He knelt, offering his hand for the blade.

“Before the High Court...” She said, “I acknowledge you as my companion and advisor, as Lord of the Court of Thorns, and Aen Saevherne of the High Court...”

She took his offered hand and sliced across the palm, doing the same with her own. He hissed at the burn that bisected his palm, it was not only by silver he’d take his oath.

“I, Crevan Espane Aep Caomhan Macha pledge with my blood and body my loyalty to the High Court, their majesties and the Court of Thorns...” He said. “From this day until my last...”

He clasped her hand in his own, binding his lifeblood to hers, now until he breathed his last. Silk bound his hand when their hands parted as did hers. The Circlet was cold against his brow, it had a weight despite its lightness.

He was barely aware of what happened after, his whole body seemed to vibrate. He remembered this feeling, danger, need, and anticipation. He had felt this when Ciri had asked of him on that Beltane night, to be the only male she would ever bed. He knew this would not be with his queen, but he had one to offer his loyalty again. He danced with her, showing her the dances of the Aen Elle court, feeling the eyes of the Delegation upon his back as he spun her around the floor.


	14. Finding places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pen beds Crevan and aides in his healing as she marks him belonging to the Court.

The eyes of the Court had been on them for most of the night, so at its end to be near alone with her was a stark contrast. He had gone about with her as she tucked in the children, read to them from a large tome of stories and bid them good-night. Nuada accompanied them as far as the door to the suite for earlier in the evening, clearly, they were his.

“...I will see you in the morning...” He said, a note of amusement in his voice. “...Do not bruise him too much my lady, he must appear...unblemished at breakfast.”

She smiled and kissed her king with a clear intention that she’d not stay long with her companion.

They entered the suite and they were alone, simple as that. She smiled at him and as before she laid the bit of honey in his hand, an invitation to her bed. He looked at it for a few moments before putting it in his mouth and leaning down to share it with a kiss.

Their kiss was hungry, both realizing this should have happened weeks before at Mid-winter. She broke the kiss beginning to undress, the dress made so she could do it without aid. She was down to her undergarments before she aided him with his clothing, still too stunned by the kiss to have moved. She returned to the kiss as she worked on his clothing, his hands coming to aid her as she found skin beneath the fabric.

“...What have you done to me...” He managed between kisses, something akin to heat started to flow in his veins. “...I want you...mine.”

“Soon fy llwynog arian, you shall see...” She had him stripped him to the waist by then, her hands moving over the ruined tattoo. “...Any I want you...all of you.”

She was close enough to whisper into his ear, licking along the outer edge. He shuddered at the sensation.

“We are being watched...” She warned him.

He lifted her up, looking for the nearest surface to place so they were of height to make their kiss easier. He continued the kiss, her hands working on the laces of his pants, sliding into them to brush over his lower belly.

“...Move your hand lower...” He whispered into her ear. “...You will find what...you seek.”

She did so, her fingers brushing the near nonexistent hair below his navel. She gently ran her hand down brushing the sheathed tip before gently brushing her nails over a sensitive spot. She felt him twitch against her fingers, she’d found a spot to explore much later. His gasps of surprise were genuine, it took effort not to lay himself into her palm. He let a smile touch his lips as he dipped his head.

“...My lady is eager, as I am...” He breathed. “Gentle, its...”

Her fingers brushed over the sheathed tip again, he shuddered. She swallowed his moan as she reached down to cup, her fingers stroking just behind. He reached to pull her hand back to his cock.

“...Been a long time...” He said pulling back for a few moments. “...give me a few moments.”

She obliged, encircling him with her hand. He moaned but stood upright and backed from her touch.

He worked to finish undressing, his trousers and Breeks were soon gone. Then he slowly divested her of hers, kneeling down to part he thighs. He brushed his fingers up her thighs, pausing at the seven black stars on her inner thigh. He turned his head and kissed them. He moved to push her thighs wider, leaning forward. His breath brushed against her, he slid in two fingers. She moaned, her hips rose from the table.

She reached down to twine her fingers in his gray hair, pulling him against her. He adjusted his position, leaning closer. His tongue flicked, she gasped arching to his lips. He moaned into her, moving to suck the small pearl between her folds. He put his hands on her hips, lifting her to his mouth. She shuddered, and he pulled away; rewarded with her honey. He licked it up and then stood. That delicious heat was beginning to pool in his groin, making him bold. He kissed her, sharing her flavor with her as their kiss increased in passion.

“...Bed.” She said between kisses. ‘I want you..my fox...bed...”

He carried her there, hiking her upon his body, trapping the heat between them.

He had her beneath him, shifting to settle properly. He groaned as her hand went down between them to guide, he gasped at the sensation. He knew it had to be as real as possible, if it was true they were being watched. He gasped when she guided him into her body. With a soft breath, he sank in groaning in truth at the sensation. He looked down at her, aquamarine looking into evergreen.

“Rwy'n rhoi fy nghalon i chi...” He breathed out. “My Queen...”

Her hands moved to his sides and her legs crossed behind his back, locking her body around him. He thrust forward in response. She arched into him, drawing out a moan. He fell into a true rhythm, her nails pricked into his skin. It was not long before he could not think past beyond the delicious head that now sang along his nerves and the hunger in their kisses.

The kiss upon his throat, distracted him enough so he was beneath her, pinned to eath. Her movement, the sound she made. He relished the sensations of her body gripping him. He held her hips, pressing her down on his thrusts. She would have bruises on her hips from his grip assuring himself she was real and not a fever dream or a phantom manifested by his will.

“...My lady...” He managed to gasp. “Close...”

The final kiss made the release all the sweeter. She smiled down at him as a languid sleep came over him.

Pen slowly pulled away from Crevan, she would have loved nothing better than dozing with him, but she had another task. She went to a table in the shadows and retrieved a bowl filled with liquid and a sharpened stylus. She brought the bowl back to set on the night stand. She dipped the stylus into the liquid and with care began to draw a knot pattern upon Crevan’s body, low where his original tattoo had begun. She pricked now and again, mixing his blood with the liquid. She began humming , the liquid in the bowl began dancing with the thread of power.

He would not notice her gift until it started to twine with the old ink. She set the bowl aside as she finished, her hand sliding up to his heart, before laying a kiss there. She climbed back beside him and laid her head on his chest.

Crevan woke a short time later with Pen laying her head on his chest. He ran his hand over her head. Her dark hair splayed over his skin. It had seemed quick, proof he was her lover and had bedded her in some time.

“...Do we still have watchers...” He said softly, stroking her hair.

Her hand went down beneath the covers to brush over the sheathed tip. He arched, groaning. Her nails brushed over that delightful spot. He made a very male sound of contentment.

“...Yes then...” He said in a low tone. “My lady may explore., be gentle...it had been a...long time.”

She nipped his shoulder, then moved to brush light kisses on the way down. She laid her head on his thigh, her fingers brushing over his groin. He wondered if she would make this real or feed the illusion. The nibble- kiss said it would be a mixture. He groaned as she stroked over the stiffening flesh. He arched when her mouth, sank once, twice. Her strokes and nibbles had him sinking his fingers into her hair to hold her close. When it culminated in him spilling his essence upon her tongue, held gently in her lips. He barely felt her climb back up to lay her head back on his chest, before sleep claimed him again.

When Pen left his bed at dawn, Crevan was left to wonder if she where to have done it all in truth would his release had been so intense. He groaned at the memory of her lips upon sensitive skin. With their coupling being real, at least he knew Ge’els spies were satisfied with the illusion he was now the Queen’s lover. He lay there oddly content, warm with the memory of the honey in her kiss. It was done, they simply had to wait until the rumors started, that she was cuckolding her king with him and they would know where to look for the spies.

Nuada heard Pen in the bathing room, washing what little sex she’d had from her skin. He entered to join her after she finished her initial wash. She greeted him with a heated kiss. He ran his hands over her curves, frowning a bit at the forming bruises in the shape of fingers on her skin.

“...How was he?” Nuada teased as he joined her into the renewed and hotter water.

“Amazing.” She said, with genuine conviction. “And he didn’t even notice the healing or the marking.”

He smiled, having asked if it was possible to restore some of the tattoos. She had said yes, but the first coupling had to be in truth. He had wanted to return the Aen Saevherne to his status if he was going to serve the court, and the tattoo was apart of it.

“...So he won’t notice the rose and thorn knot-work you’ve placed upon him.” Nuada smiled, his own tattoo humming under her touch. “That being Lord of your court is more than ceremonial...”

“He’ll notice when it starts twining with the imagery already there...” She said. “Are you sure you are OK with this, letting him be my lord while you are my King?”

He let out a breath, “...Being King there are things I must do for my people’s good. It does not mean I am comfortable with all of the choices...”

She knew he was avoiding the subject, he wasn’t comfortable but he had done it to keep the peace they had a bit longer.

Crevan had not expected to find his rooms also connected to a Solar, not just the Royal one, but one of his own. He stood in his robe for a few minutes basking in the light. He returned to the bathing room to find a tub already filled for him. He bathed, the warmth sinking into his skin. He took note the soap smelled of citrus, a hint of pine and parchment. He relished this, he had liked to smell of these things for Ciri. He stepped from the bath to find more fine clothes and adornments for his braids. This morning it appeared his queen was showing her claiming, as the adornments were set with stones to reflect his eyes. He let a servant weave the deep garnet and silver chain into his braids. He asked for breakfast to be brought to his solar and an invite to both the King and Queen if he was also to be the Queen’s advisor it would be best he do so right away.

The remains of breakfast lay upon the table before Crevan found his voice. He was not too sure where he stood beyond being “companion” and advisor to the queen. He had remained silent as Nuada kept up a pleasant conversation with Pen, commenting on the current state of the realm’s affairs.

“...We are hearing rumblings from the human kingdoms. It appears old ways die-hard...”

“...I know Ge’els is a crafty one, dangerous as a viper.” Pen said. “Could you lend your incite...Crevan.”

He looked up sighing, setting his fork down, and wiping his mouth. A servant set a goblet beside him, he downed it. It took him a few moments to realize this was another thing provided to him, medicines to suppress his tics and tremors.

“...It is too much in us to settle peacefully.” He said. “It is what divided us from the Aen Sidhe...I watched the slaughter first hand, regrettably. We still will wish to rule.”

“...I more worry about the cold spells.” Nuada said. “The frost goes ahead of the raid, but I am glad there is not the ship...”

Crevan frowned, the cold spells had been lost with the frost.

“...It does not seem like good practice.” Nuada continued. “The hunt is known to come with winter, or that was the legend that came from us using the frost.”

“...There is an ambitious general at the head of the Riders, it appears Ge'els chose him for having a silver tongue to convince the other courts to surrender.” Pen said.

Both looked at her, surprised.

“My Singers keep the peace, remember...” She said. “I’ve had reports of riders asking for audiences with Sidhe lords, just like they tried with us. They haven’t tried it with Jareth yet, but then again when you rule a living Labyrinth...”

Crevan raised an eyebrow at this, he’d met Jareth at Yule but the male he met did not seem like a king.

“The Goblin King is one of the Few Sidhe lords the others avoid.” She said. “Considering it devoured a whole army...” She paused. “...I was in his castle at the time.”

Nuada frowned. "...it was a difficult time between Pen and I and wiser heads recommended her presence there..."

Two answers from his now sovereigns.

“Ge’els will want answers, try to sour me toward you,” Crevan said. “He will think I’ve fallen even father...”

“Unlike long ago, he holds nothing.” Pen said. “By all the accounts he will receive you’ve come willingly to my bed since the mid-winter fair...Making you lord and my acknowledged companion confirmed that for them.” She smiled. “Why else would I have given you such title if you were not significant to me..."

He knew she may have had a distaste for the intrigue of the court but she was well aware of it.

“...And tonight I will be introducing my “Mistress” to the court.” Nuada said. “Rhiannon will play the part, so if you have concerns she is safe to relay them to or to the Bard Aiden.”

Crevan nodded, rubbing his ear. He remembered the female “flirting” with him. They all rose, it was time to let the game begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Llwynog arian: (welsh) Silver Fox. Pen's endearment for Crevan  
> Rwy'n rhoi fy nghalon i chi: (Welsh) I give you my heart  
> I chose Crevan to speak phrases in Welsh as it is one of the real-world languages that went into Elder speech


	15. Intricate steps in a dance

Crevan settled himself in what would be his usual seat on the dais, slightly below the Royal children. He saw Rhiannon “Flirting” with the bard Aiden before Nuada stalked up to them. He would have thought it real if he hadn’t been informed of it at breakfast.

His skin had been itching almost all day, and it was hard to ignore the sensation of something creeping across his skin, He looked up to where Pen sat, pretending to look annoyed at Nuada paying attention to Rhiannon. He discreetly itched a spot on his thigh, he would ask his lady to aid him with applying Camille to the itch after the second impromptu ball was over. He looked up again and decided the look was real, but not at the King’s “flirting.” He rose and went up to her, asking her to dance with him.

He whirled his lady queen around the floor, his mind off the itch. He’d even danced with Deirdre, the small girl’s feet upon his. A pang of remembrance gripped him, his own daughters had done this, learning the dances. The small girl ran to her Sire when the king returned from his Dance with Rhiannon. He returned to his seat, waiting as the itch crawled across his skin.

Pen was surprised that night when Deir asked if Crevan could read from the storybook. The Sage complied, reading in Gaelic as he’d seen Pen do. Before the final good night, the little girl looked at him and asked something of her mother, he only caught the words for knot and thorn. He did not hear Pen’s reply.

The stripping of clothes was a bit more exciting, the itch turned into heat on his skin. She had pinned him to the bed almost immediately. Her kisses following lines of the tattoo that adorned his skin, heat followed her kisses. Somehow this seemed more erotic than her touch, her nips to the skin beneath his navel turned his attention to where she was, waiting for him to give her consent.

A simple nod and her mouth traveled lower, talking gently. His hand came to the back of her head, he did not want that kiss to end. He arched into that kiss, once, twice before her hands pressed his hips to the bed to still him as she tasted and drew out his moans. He wrapped her hair around his hand, gripping it tightly.

Release came, and her kiss lingered for a short while after. She moved to lay her head on his thigh. He released and ran his fingers through her hair, she was doing the same to the sparse hairs. He made a noise of contentment, enjoying her attention. He lifted his arm to place it behind his head and froze. Where he’d peeled away his skin in fits of madness was whole skin, what looked like a thorny vine twining with the line down his arm.

“...This.” He said still in awe. “How...”

“My gift.” She said, reaching and kissing the inside of his wrist. “So none cannot say you do not belong to my court."

He looked down, his Aen Saevhern markings were restored, tangled with some thorny vine. He looked to hers, they were no less. She put a finger to his lips before kissing him.

“...Turn on your stomach, let me complete the pattern...”

He rolled onto his stomach as she asked, head on his arms. She seated herself close as her hands slid up from his sides. The itch/heat followed a form in its wake. He groaned, the warmth up his spine. He would ask her what she had chosen, after...

He woke stiff from lying in one position all night, but Pen was not there. She must have left him after she finished the gifting. He noticed the note upon the table with a simple breakfast. A warm bath awaited him, along with a thick robe.

_Stay abed, I will come to see you tonight..._

He smiled, sitting to eat.

_A few days later…_

Pen summoned Crevan to her chamber, he came to see both Nuada and Rhiannon had come as well. It was to be a formal meeting, under the guise of a tryst. He did not expect to be stripped to the waist before being sandwiched between Pen and Rhiannon with Nuada sitting with a sketchbook drawing them. He had to admit given the choice, it would have been the king sandwiched between them while he drew.

“...The sketches will be evidence…” Pen whispered, tracing the intertwined branch/Thorn pattern on his skin.

He looked at the two women, remembering when he’d told Geralt that humans had strange tastes. He had to laugh thinking about what the Witcher would have said seeing him like this.

“...I had no less than three of the High Court come to me with the concern that my queen had an Aen Elle lover…” Nuada said, correcting a line. “Or that they would take over the Freehold...”

Crevan shifted slightly to face Pen. “...As if just a freehold would interest Ge’els...”

She slid his pants slightly down his hips to expose more skin and more of the knot-work. He shifted so she could push down the fabric further.

“Naughty…” Came Rhiannon’s voice and a swat.

Crevan jumped, eliciting a grin from Nuada as Pen Pushed the fabric down enough to expose the other elf’s ass.

“I forgot, you bite…” Crevan said.

“I’ve gotten no complaints…” Rhiannon said.

Pen’s hand smoothed over the mark. “...Have you heard any rumors other than the nine-day wonder of me shagging an Aen Elle…”

Crevan gave her an “I beg your pardon” look as Rhiannon gave his exposed ass another swat. He made a noise that was not quite pain.

“...Aiden said he heard that Ge’els is planning a little visit with the young king...”

“Should we put on a full show then?” Pen asked shifting so she could lay over Crevan to touch Rhiannon.

“Hold that pose,” Nuada said. “...Another and we will have enough to convince them.”

The quick strokes on parchment.

“There...that should convince them that I have a Harem…”

All three slumped into the bed, Rhi leaned on her elbow and reached down and beneath to Tweek the sheathed tip of Crevan’s cock. The Sage jumped in a different way.

“I would you leave that alone if you please…” He said. “it belongs to someone else...”

Pen reached between and did the same, eliciting a groan from him.

“Yes, me…” Pen said.

Rhiannon smirked as she got up and put on her clothing, she was going to meet Aiden for dinner.

Crevan adjusted his clothing and put his tunic back on, he had some correspondence to look over, as the new-made Lord of The Court of Thorns he had duties in his lady’s absence. He gave Pen a light kiss and a head tilt to Nuada before leaving.

Nuada soon was laying where Crevan had, though with less clothing. He traced her Tattoo, smiling.

“...You chose a beautiful pattern.” He said. “An apple, the blade Zeriel and a gull feather...all of bramble.”

She smiled, reaching to trace the knot-work on his side.

“Yes, but I let the magick decide. It was as much a surprise to me.”

He reached to pull her in for a kiss, umming at the hunger she expressed.

“...Not enough of your fox.” He said, pulling back.

“Umm...I found a few spots to nibble on.” She said. “To give the spies a thrill...”

“If the reactions and rumors are an indication...it is working.”

She snuggled against him, enjoying being close to him.

“Tell me what you will do with him...”

"I never thought you a voyeur...”

He laughed softly. “No, I mean when you go back to your freehold...”

“Keep the illusion until the formal bonding rite.” She said. “Enjoy him...”

He held her against him, sighing. She was being honest, but this was more complicated than the illusion they were giving. As she had said, there were pieces missing.

“...The council is pushing for me to set you aside.” He said.

“As they have for the last twenty years...” She said. “And if you must…”

He knew she’d step aside if he truly found another, it would break something between them as it had between them with the former queen but she would go. He’d vowed she would never have to do that, break herself for him ever again.

“...They are using the fact that you brought your “Lover” to court.”

She frowned, She did care for the sage. She did not want him hurt by this any more than he had been.

“Double standard...” She said. “You could have a thousand, and yet I bring one...”

“True...” He said softly. “..what shall we drink when he vexes you and you come to my solar to brood?”

She let out a snort of laughter. “Crab apple cider...”

He laughed, moving to sit astride him. They had two days to make up for...


	16. saved by an oath

Pen was sitting by the fire when Crevan returned from his meeting at the table. It had taken subtle asking to find his brothers at the castle. He shed the outer layers that kept him warm in the drafty tower room where they met and on the walk afterward. He was a bit surprised to see her there.

“...I would have thought you staying with his majesty tonight.” He said. “Or making plans for us to return to the Freehold…”

Pen smiled, motioning to him to the table where tea rested.

“We leave tomorrow.” She said. “...And I wanted a bit of time with you, out of bed.”

He had to smile at that, pouring his tea and coming to sit opposite her.

“...Tell me of Tir Na Lia.” She said, a little while later.

He stretched a bit. “...So my lady wishes a story like her children.”

She laughed, “No, I want to know of the place I would have lived...in another life.”

She got up and came to sit in his lap, he put his arms around her and held her close. He was grateful for her closeness now, it had been a very hard day emotionally. It had been why he’d needed the walk after the table.

“...There is nothing in this world that would rival it. I had quarters in one of the temples, overlooking the river, near Tor Zareil. It was the most serene place. When Ciri chose exile with me to my world...We lived in the tower, two of our children were born there.” He sighed. “...I knew she was not happy there, she would open portals to her world and be gone for months at a time. Our youngest was just learning to talk when she asked to dissolve our bond.”

She remembered what Regis had said about a distance between them. He pulled her close, she lay her head on his shoulder.

“I wanted her to be happy...So I agreed.” He said. “We lived together after that, but it was not the same. We would go to Corvo Blanco in the summer, that stopped after Geralt died. She would go to see Yen alone, then Yennifer was gone. It was not until the world she knew was completely gone that she stopped going. She was an old woman then, but still beautiful to me. It was bright and sunny on the day she passed the veil. I held her hand to the end...”

She reached up to wipe away a tear sliding down his cheek. He leaned his cheek into her palm.

“Today was the anniversary by the Aen Elle Calendar.” He said. “I needed a walk after the table...It is still hard...even after all these years." He swallowed. "...I was a mess for a long while after. I will ask you do not leave me tonight...”

She knew he would have asked one of his brothers of the table but he was asking her. She leaned up and kissed him in answer.

Clothing lead from the hearth to the bed, til two bodies, slid against each other. There would be no illusion tonight. She was on top, her body moving, giving. He let her pin him, arching to her movement. Then the rhythm changed, urgent as he turned to put her beneath him.

"Forgive me..." He whispered thrusting hard.

Her nails drew scratches down his back and sides, but he could not stop. She wrapped herself around him to hold him in place, meeting his thrusts with her own. Release came and went, he only slowed to build up again.

Twice more release came, on the second was he spent. He looked down, at first he thought he'd hurt her. He tried to pull back, only to find her legs still locked about him. He let himself fall and lay with her hands stroking down his back over sweat-slick skin. The scratches stung, a reminder he had been rough. He let her roll him so she could lay close. Sleep came, wrapped in the arms of his queen.

Crevan woke to find the bed empty but the sounds from the bathing room said Pen was awake. He rolled out of bed, heading in that direction. Out of the shadows, he was tackled to the ground and some device applied to his skin and the sound of static as his muscles ceased up. A hood was thrown over his head and his wrists bound.

"Crevan..." Pen called.

The assailants hurried out of the room, carrying the sage out with them.

Pen came out of the bath, shocked to find Crevan gone. His clothes were still present, and she knew he did not parade around naked. She searched the suite and solar. Finding no trace she raised the alarm, sending guards scrambling to look for her companion. He was found nowhere in the castle either, a clear sign he had been taken. She knew exactly who would stoop that low.

Jareth frowned when he was quite abruptly summoned to the High Court that morning. He had not expected to be asked to play envoy. Pen had some idea who had taken the sage from the castle. That in itself was a high crime, add stealing a member of the court. They weren’t going to see daylight at any time in the next century or more.

“...You know this favor isn't for free.” Jareth said.

“What do you want, goblin king...”

Jareth grinned, she was well aware of who he had come as to Court.

“Simple...an alliance, a betrothal...” He said as he conjured up a bubble. “My son to your daughter...”

"Which son, you have several," Nuada said.

“Toby...they are of an age," Jareth said, showing a picture of the boy in the bubble. “..and a performance, Bryin has wanted to hear you sing again.”

"Easily done..." Pen said as she signed the parchment.

Jareth smirked, "...I'll be bringing Ludo..."

Pen smiled, she liked the creature.

Crevan felt dumped like a sack of potatoes upon the cold floor. He heard the chain attached to the shackles around his wrists. The hood was yanked away and Ge'els stood there, frowning at him. The other Aen Elle must have thought he was rescuing him.

“...Caught naked, in the bed of a human.” Ge'els said. “...You've slipped Crevan.”

“...In the bed of my queen.” He corrected the Viceroy.

“Yes, the human is High queen." Ge'els said. "All the more disgraceful...if Lara could see you.”

He kept his composure, the bastard had been pricking him with Lara's name for centuries.

“Or perhaps I should say Cirirella...”

He sneered at the Viceroy.

“I wonder if your human queen will come for you...or will she abandon you as Cirirella did...”

Crevan was about to lunge at him as close as the chains would allow.

There was a commotion out in the corridor, one of the riders flew threw the door to slam against the stone wall, sliding down to land in a heap. Something that stood near eight feet tall and covered in hair strode in shaking off the guards like water.

“...Not so rough Ludo.” Jareth said as he entered, all black leather and flamboyance. “We want the place still standing. I have come in the name of the High Queen…”

Ge’els was stunned, why was this creature serving a human.

“Who are you, what right...”

Jareth ignored the contempt in Ge'els voice, he liked the Aen Elle even less than the Sidhe did.

“I am Jareth, king of the goblins...” He said. “And as sovereign of the Labyrinth, I have leave to work in the High queen's name..."

Crevan blinked, that male ruled the Labyrinth. He'd met Jareth earlier at the mid-winter ball but seeing him this way was a bit of a shock. The shackles fell away and he was able to cast on his clothing, now feeling a little less at a disadvantage. Jareth held out a parchment, the royal order for Crevan's return.

“Lord Crevan would you be so kind as to show your left palm," Jareth asked. "I wish to show the Viceroy proof you belong to the High Queen."

Crevan showed the still healing slash on his left hand, made with a silver blade it would be a few more days before it healed.

“A blood oath...” Jareth said. “...given three days past.”

Ge'els stood there in shock.

“...with my blood and my body,” Crevan said. “I made oaths to my new sovereigns...”

The viceroy had not thought Crevan would take oaths to the High court let alone a human queen. The mark in Crevan's palm said he'd been mistaken and underestimated his one-time ally.

“...The carriage to take you back to the Royal seat is waiting outside, one of my men will escort you.” Jareth said. “I have a bit to finish up here...”

Crevan looked back for a moment and what he glimpsed gave him a reminder of why the other Sidhe lords did not piss off the Goblin King.

Pen was waiting when he was returned to the castle. She embraced him holding him tightly. He held her close for a few moments. He looked at her, knowing she'd paid for his freedom with something precious.

“...What was the price of my freedom? I know men like the Goblin king do no favors without payment.”

“A betrothal." She said. "My daughter to his son.” She smiled. “He won't hurt Ge'els...much.”

"I know now why it is wise to be in his good graces..." Crevan said. “That thing I saw...”

Pen had to laugh, she'd met the Labyrinth spirit a long time ago and had liked the mercurial entity.

“Bryin...” She said. "the Labyrinth's living Spirit. She is as mischievous as her king, and can be just as vicious." She smiled. “...I'll have to introduce you properly later...when both she and Jareth are settled down.”

"What was the spirit showing Ge'els..."

“Most likely what happened to the last Monarch who pissed him off." Pen said. "...they are still picking up the bones...”

He remembered what she had said, she had seen the conflict.

“I think I'd like a bath and breakfast...” He said.

Pen pointed the way, he'd get both inside the castle.


	17. One step back

Bathed and fed, Crevan was sitting in the Royal Solar with the three monarchs. Jareth as himself looked very different from the male he’d seen in leathers. Nuada was not happy, nor was Pen. He shifted uncomfortably, between the three of them there was enough power to turn Courts and kingdoms to dust.

“They managed to get into the castle...I want to know how.” Pen said. “...And what were they doing with a Taser...”

Nuada looked over at Jareth, he wanted to know this too. It was the one human weapon that could do serious damage to a Magickal creature. The Goblin King paused in his pacing, he’d gone fully into his Persona of the goblin king and had gotten few answers before the Viceroy had slumped to the ground in a faint.

“...I wasn’t able to get that out of him.” Jareth said. “Near pissed his pants when Bryin showed him the Oubelet and had Ludo growl...”

Pen let a smile play on her lips, the Rock caller was in the nursery playing with the twins, quite happily. Ludo was still a child in the context of his people.

“...I did get the impression that Ge’els does not think much of humans, let alone those who…” He looked at Crevan. “Take them as mates…”

Crevan frowned, it meant that Ge’els would poison any of the other courts toward The High Court and the Goblin Kingdom. He twisted the cloth napkin in his hands, wishing again for the strength he’d once had as a Rider.

“That we know, he wishes The Court of Thorns disbanded...And possession of the Freehold.” Nuada said.

"He would have to go through every merchant, craftier and Singer to do that...and I know you allow humans guns in the freehold, to remind the Fey and Sidhe that it isn't just our world either."

"Ge'els has found that out, the hard way. As many as twelve to eighteen riders have been felled in the raids. His healers are in worse shape from having to handle the silver and lead...They will have to tap the Aen Saevherne at the manse..."

Pen had known when the humans had started striking back, and most of the Surgeons were accompanied when on the road now. The Aen Saevherne at the Manse were carefully watched after the reason they’d been sent was revealed.

“...Most see the knowledge they are gaining as a means to an end.” Crevan spoke up. “...Give them a choice to which end they use it.” He looked at all three Monarchs. “...You will have a mass exodus or an army...”

Crevan would know this being an Aen Saevherne himself. He was sure there would be an army.

“And you as their general?” Nuada asked, more harshly than he intended.

Crevan straightened up, there were still a few things they had to iron out about him being Lord of the court. How he and Nuada interacted was one of them, reminded it had only been three days since he’d taken his oath.

“...I did not mean that as harsh as it sounded.” Nuada said. “...I am pissed they got into the castle, let alone took one of my court.”

Jareth turned, was the High King apologizing?

“...We need no divide in the High Court...It may be used as a wedge to shatter our peace.”

“I will ask Rhi what she has found out, and we have a few places that forget Bards use their ears too.” Pen said. “Aiden will keep his open.”

“...I have a few goblins who like to hide in the shadows, and have enough intelligence to relay simple messages.” Jareth said. “I can loan you a few, no strings...”

There were nods of agreement, they needed all the tools at their disposal.

The whisper began in the Manse, the Court of Thorns was no longer safe and to stay was to fight for it. To use the knowledge gained to prevent its fall and enslavement. It was a full-blown statement by the time it got to the Freehold proper. Careful listening from the Singers in the Taverns and the Court spies told them who would flee and who would fight...

“...Ninety percent.” Aiden said, having been summoned to Pen’s office. “At last count.”

Crevan was still settling in as Lord of the court and his duties.

“There is a petition to allow a second gunsmith into the Freehold,” Crevan said. “...But I have turned them down, we’ve had to confiscate several from drunken patrons at The Orb-weaver...”

Pen let herself smile, “And our guests?”

“One in four are staying. It appears Lord Crevan isn’t the only Sage tired of the bullshit spouted by their Viceroy.” Aethen said. “...We even had a Navigator ask to stay, his reasoning is that it would be good to know where the Manse is vulnerable to portals...”

Crevan nodded, he could still plot them and open a few, but those actions took time, something they probably would not have.

“...We’ve received messages from the House of the Gull.” Aethen continued. “Basically saying they will stand with us.”

Crevan frowned, “Yet they will not say…”

Pen knew he was still angry over what Lara had done, though like his obsession with her he hid it well. His outburst upon the revelation had been the only outward indication of his anger.

“...They have hidden for more than a thousand years.” Pen said. “I do not think they ever had the intention of revealing themselves, but The Return forced their hand.” She frowned. “...Lara knew what she was doing, hiding her child here among the Sidhe.”

“...The House of the swallow wishes to visit once again.” Aethen said. “It seems Lord Cirdan liked Rhi’s attentions and has inquired after her.”

Crevan smirked, the boy would be disappointed learning the object of interest was already bonded.

“...Thinking with the wrong head?” Pen asked. “He would not be the first…”

Aiden raised an eyebrow, he would have to plan with Rhiannon.

“No, he wishes to enroll his younger sibling into the school, quite gifted from what we have gathered,” Aethen said. “...The visit is to tour the grounds.”

Dain Cecht knocked on the door frame with his cane, something had been found in the Archive and whatever it was it could not wait.

The Diary looked like it had been written specifically to inform, to tell a truth. Whoever had written it wanted it found at this moment. That level said Guild Master status. Pen skimmed it and did not know the handwriting so carefully laid to the page.

“...Regis doesn’t know where it came from, Det found it wedged between two volumes of records from Haladar’s enclave. Considering its age, the Writer could not have known about you…” Dain said. “...It said for the Pearl...Only the guild called you that...and the marker said for the Songbird, something only Atar calls you.”

Crevan had a feeling, one that made him shiver.

“Whoever wrote it knew how to get the attention of the searcher…” Pen said looking over a few pages. “...There are coordinates, like locations.”

Crevan looked them over, shivering. The memory of that day sharpened and he began rubbing his thigh. The scar was not there, but the pain of it was.

“You know these...”

“...Sadly, Yes…” He rose. “I will have to bow out of this, for now.” He let out a breath. “Ask the young navigator for help, I cannot be a part of this...”

They watched Crevan walkout, slightly limping.

The Sage walked and kept walking until he was in the center of the gardens. He leaned against a tree and vomited. He did not need this, the sensations of the bolts sinking into his back with hammer force, The taste of the potion that had purged the poison from his blood. He didn’t want to remember any of it. A dark time had followed until Ciri had found him again. She had dragged him halfway across the world, it had been a long winter among the Aen Sidhe he had gotten control of the demon. The all too short time in Corvo Blanca.

“...I don’t want to remember…” He whispered. “...Please, I don’t want to remember...”

The opening of a portal and the touch of a unicorn horn against his back. Pain, nausea as he fell to his knees. Inside his mind, he remembered and began screaming himself voiceless.

“You will remember it all, Fox…” Said a voice. “...The price for your past, The price for your life.”

The unicorn was gone by the time Pen and the small search party found him.

Pen frowned at the healer when they got Crevan back to the Manse. He’d kept asking not to be left alone, though he had little voice left. Regis set a pair of watchers on him. It appeared some type of mental trauma had happened, enough to make him fear that he would seek out a fix. The healers had him sedated in addition to the watchers.

“...I would recommend quiet.” The healer said. “...And a pause in his duties.”

She frowned, he had been healing, healthy for the first time in centuries no doubt. This seemed another setback, another stumbling block.

“Anything else that I should know…” She asked.

“No,” The healer said. “...Just give him a bit of space to talk when he gets his voice back...”

Pen nodded, She would give the fox all he needed to come back to her.


	18. Nightmares

By some pull, Pen began reading the Diary. Its words were written by someone present but detached from the events. She knew the names within, their stories told by others. She always came back to the Coordinates, asking the young Navigator if he could plot them. He said but in no direct route.

“...You know I can only send four with you, outside of the Navigator.” Nuada said, snuggled with her in the window seat. “And we now know how he knew about your court and the Council.”

She took a drink of the cider in her mug, looking out the window. What she read made how she would deal with Crevan all the more thorny.

“Yes, that small of a party will be enough according to the diary.” She said. “...All that matters is we are to remove them from the Hunts notice for a little while...”

“...You will have to Keep Crevan away from Avallac’h, your physicists say that their meeting would nuke half the continent.”

She sighed, there was no likelihood of them meeting, Crevan had decided to camp out in the archive with Regis since the healers had released him.

“Yes, I have taken that into account.” She said. “And Crevan asked me to find a thread for him...I know where to look.”

“Thus the Crab Apple cider…” He teased. “...I didn’t know you could make this…”

She took another drink, lips puckering at the tartness.

“Yes, whatever apples are available.” She said.  
He held her. “Are you going to keep sharing your bed with him through this?”

It was an honest question since a lot of things still needed to be straightened out to delineate between when she was the High Queen and when she was Lady Thorn. Both males were possessive, almost unnervingly so.

“I do not know if I should.” She said. “I care for him, and he is a skilled lover...but I need you to be level headed too...not thinking of me in my lover’s bed.”

She felt a wave of mischief from him.

“I could arrange a sandwich…” He said.

She laughed. “...I don’t think he’s your type.”

Nuada laughed. “…I do not think he’d mind as long as you are the filling, I would not.”

She snuggled into him, it did sound intriguing but it would have to wait.

“...I should get the preparations done.” She said. “But I still...”

“Don’t trust what you cannot verify.” He sighed. “First rule of being a good leader...”

She leaned close, resting her head against him. There was so much to do.

_Two days later…_

Crevan sat in his solar, Lara’s necklace in his hand. He had pondered the same question as Pen, was it wise to let her keep sharing his bed. The nightmares had awakened him near every night since the discovery of the diary, he didn’t want her to see him that way. He decided to sleep alone until all this was resolved. He feared to lose her as well, as he had lost Lara. That was a fool’s thought, one that kept ringing in his head. He played with the setting, wishing for a simple answer.

It felt so much like after Ciri died, the nightmares, the cravings for the poison that had destroyed so much of his life. He had not known what it was until he’d gone begging to the unicorns. His soul was rotting, had been since Lara had fallen for a human. His obsession with her blood had started it, he was more intense in his research than the other Sages. He’d led the research for a very long time. For a little while he’d had Ciri, their children it had stopped. It had returned full force after her death.

“...It is never an easy choice.” Nuada said as he came to sit at the table. “To accept when the cure is placed in front of you yet cannot see it.”

He turned to look at his King, from the single golden amber eye to the lines that none so young of their race should have.

“...The healers said you had this condition as well…”

Nuada nodded, “Yes. I know what it is doing to you...what it did.”

He set the necklace down and rubbed his arm, where a patch of skin he’d peeled away was now whole and vines twined with bramble. He still did not feel like an Aen Saevherne again despite the mark being restored.

“My obsession with destroying humans started. It took my defeat at the hands of a red demon and my twin sister’s death to trigger its onset. I near starved myself,” He looked at his hands. “Smashed every object around me, it did not help that my enemy had me blinded and locked away in Jareth’s castle. Fate brought Pen into my life...the road to where we are is rocky, to say the least.”

This was an interesting confession, again something he did not expect from the High King. Let alone the other male in his lady’s life.

“Back into your life?” Crevan asked. “Was not she always...”

Nuada shook his head, they had been pushed together and pulled apart for near twenty years and had been tested at every turn.

“Before my defeat...I traveled, from Fey enclave to Fey enclave...I could not stand the city where my father’s Court was.” He said. “I was a fool and went up against poachers with guns...I was granted a year in an enclave that had humans as well...The children of Anglin, The Muinn...I did not know at that time it had been planned, not being shot, but my meeting of a Dark-Haired, evergreen-eyed girl.” He tubbed a spot on his chest, beneath his heart. “I had met her before, in the New York Troll Market...she ran into me, literally.”

It was intriguing to hear the king speak of Pen, of the woman fate, said they had to share.

“She was young...”

“Yes, twelve summers when I met her in the market. She ran into me hard enough to bruise. She cut her cheek on my armor…” He smiled. “She was near eighteen and a hands-breadth above my heart when I saw her again. How ironic that seems almost two decades on.” He said. “...We conceived our first child in that enclave, in a barren field on Sovan.”

Crevan laughed softly, remembering where he and Ciri had conceived their son. He thought the squirrel leader was going to have a fit over finding them naked in the storage shed.

“It took a very long road, war, and a mad queen…” He said. “She broke her voice and life...Fought for me, near died to teach me a lesson. After so much pain, I let her go to live her life, then like the lovesick fool I was, decided she would be my queen.”

He and Ciri had something similar, but fate did not bring them back together after their second parting.

“Knowing how much she avoids being prim and proper that must have gone over well...”

“Like a cockatrice in a mirror…” Nuda said. “...The twins were born and we reached a compromise, and I found the value of walking among my subjects now and again.”

“Then I came,” Crevan said. “I know well how well my being her lover goes over with you...”

Nuada knew The Sage would bring that up, not understanding that he’d encouraged Pen to take that step.

“...You’ve talked to Aethen.” He said. “Yes, If it had not been explained to me I would have gutted him, I still could have but I made him one of my cohort.” He looked at Crevan.

“But you wonder of the Soul Rot. Such intimacy is one cure...the other I will not let her do. As I said, she broke her life and her voice to heal me, I vowed she would never have to do it again.”

Crevan sighed. “...I do not want her to see me like I was, a twitching mess…”

Nuada smiled, he had been paying the coin for the medicines the sage received on a regular basis for his tics and tremors.

“She is a healer mostly now.” He said. “She’s seen worse...”

“It is still a good idea that my bed remains empty until this is resolved.” He said. “And until we can figure out where the lines begin and end.”

Nuada rose. “...Dinner is soon, and the Lord of the court should be with his lady…” He smiled. “Because tonight the queen will be with her king...”

Crevan smiled. “I’ll be there...”

Nuada left him to think over what he said.

Pen was looking over the diary to see what she needed to bring on this little rescue mission. Crevan appeared and closed the tome. He wanted an answer, one only she could give. He appeared angry, something she expected on some level.

“...What is the other way to heal the Soul Rot.” He asked. “And do not give me that you cannot answer me...”

She frowned, Nuada would have mentioned it but not in full. He did not like mentioning it. He most likely did not want Crevan to ask of it. But the Sage would want to know. She would answer as much as she could.

“...I would sing, channel my power through my voice.” She said. “...I would not be able to talk for some time…”  
He frowned, “...I see.”

His tone seemed bewildered. She would not let him believe that it was so simple.

“No. When I did it last, I was near voiceless for over a month…” She said. “I broke my voice, it has never been the same…” She stood. “...HE would not let me do that again, and I agree, it was too high a price.”

He set his hands down on the desk as if to steady himself. She saw his fingers dig into the wood.

“...Has this all been a lie.” He said.

There it was, the actual question he wanted answering. Did she love him, was it worth having given what heart he had left. She knew it was more than did she love him, did she want him.

“No.” She moved around the desk and behind him. ‘I do care for you, and have enjoyed you.”

She wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his back. He straightened in her grasp.

“...I want…” He stiffened. “...”

She held him tighter, he’d hesitated to say the words, give her the endearment she’d heard so often in her dreams and in the privacy of her chambers.

“Say it…” She said. “Say what I am to you...”

She felt him tense, he could not say it even if the soul had so many times.

“I cannot...As Queen, you will need your head clear, as Lady Thorn you will need to keep whatever secrets from me in the days to come...”  
“...Crevan.” She said softly. “My silver fox...”

He pulled away from her embrace, turning to face her. A fragment of his nightmare hovered before him, her holding his very soul in her hands in the form of a firefly.

“...I should go before I do something foolish.”

He stepped past her and out the door.

Crevan hurried to his own chambers, slamming the door. He had told no one of the nightmares that had woken him, wraiths of memories he’d drugged himself out of his mind to forget. It was always the same; The keening, his soul leaving his frost stricken body...The last catalyst Ciri needed for banishing the frost. Then Pen in her armor holding his soul in her hands, the keening hers. There the nightmare would end, leaving him with the sensation that a portion of time had vanished from his memory.


	19. Preparations for Council

_The Royal Solar, a few hours later..._

Nuada half expected what he found, Pen in the Window seat. He brought the wine this time, Sweet Mead to share. He knew he was a part of the reason why she was here, trying to figure out a thorny problem named Crevan.

“...I half expect you here nowadays.” He said taking up his usual spot, her body against his own. “I worry when I do not.”

“Do I brood that predictably?” She asked as he reached around to embrace her.  
“As of late.” He said. “...He went and asked, didn’t he. I should not have said anything about the second way...”

He leaned over to pour two glasses, giving one to her.

“...Yes. I explained it the best and most direct way I could.” She said. “...Like a good advisor he is, he reminded me of my duty.”

He had to smirk at that, the sage was smart enough to know when his duties to Sovereign and court came first.

“...He is right, though.” She continued. “As Queen, I cannot have my head filled with my lover, and as Lady Thorn, I cannot tell him everything...”

He made a soft noise, tracing The bramble ink on her arm. The silence falling comfortably between them.

“...Want to go hide in the Freehold tomorrow...sneek off for a little play.”

It was her turn to smirk, “That does sound like a good idea. Play hide and seek with our guards as well?”

“No, just be out among our people.” He said. “I need a break from the headache the Viceroy is being about the lands we are granting them...and the crimes they have committed and refuse to acknowledge.”

He held her, looking out the window at the stars. He looked at her, sipping the mead.

“...What does the diary say of what happened to them...after the frost.”

That was a curious question, but one he would have asked as King if the diary had been made public to the court.

“...Ciri becomes a Witcher.” She said. “Crevan...The Rot starts to manifest.” She took a sip of her wine. “...It was not pleasant reading.”

“...His own demons?” He asked, knowing the Rot would have driven the other male to a lot of self-destructive behaviors outside of his own.

“And then some.” She said. “...If he wishes to talk to me of that time, he will, otherwise I will leave him to tell those of the table.” She took another sip. “...I’ll ask him if he desired to study; learn of the world beyond our Courts...”

“...And he has not already?”

“Means to an end…” She reminded him. “He has seen no end to learning of the world beyond our Courts. Human affairs do not interest him outside those who reside in the Freehold.”

“We will have to change that...The Grand Council is going to meet, to iron out our little problems and as Lord of the Court of Thorns...”

She frowned, “He will have to be present. I had forgotten about the Grand Council…”

He shifted slightly, to pour himself another glass.

“...The Aen Elle have been a distraction.” He said. “One that does Fey or Sidhe no favors.”

“How long do we have?”

“A few weeks, the human kingdoms with this done quickly, so they can get back to hating us in general...”

She let out a breath, another problem to solve.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning...”

Nuada nodded behind her, “...So are you staying the night?”

“Yes, I don’t want to go back just yet, and its dark...”

He smiled an easy excuse. He pulled her closer, knowing trouble was coming.

Crevan was frowning when Regis pulled him into the library and to a pile of books. He knew some of the texts, he’d read them after being promised to Lara. Pen was taking notes from one of the tomes, pausing to cross-reference some items.

“...Ash and Thorn…” She swore. “...There should be a notation on the creation of titles...or at least to get around...Fuck...”

Taking a sip of coffee, she looked up to see them. She set the covered cup she used in the library down and sighed.

“...Creation of titles?” Crevan asked. “...For whatever reason, you are queen…”

She took another sip of coffee, shaking her head.

“I have to present the proclamations of making you, Lord. The High Court recognizes you, but I still must present you to the minor courts and the human ones...”

Regis coughed. “...It means a headache, I still remember Lochain when he had to petition the courts for your title. Considering Singers do not carry them. It’s what has made the relationship between her and the High Court so thorny…”

Pen smirked over her cup, Regis would slip in that bit of wordplay. She had been granted the title of Marchioness upon becoming the Black Rose, the duchy came later.

“...And I have not liked Nobility with a passion since.” She said. “Normally. I was granted a coronet to make the union with Nuada palatable…” She sighed. “...The Grand Council will want the documentation as well...”

“I had forgotten, the Freehold is hosting this year,” Regis said. “I will make sure they do not wander too much.”

Crevan frowned as Regis ghosted into the stacks and returned with the tome Pen needed.

“...Heraldry.” He said. “I think there is something on titles in the Archives as well.”

She pointed to the seat beside her. ‘...You should study...The protocols are different for the council than the court.”

“I take it there will be fewer plight words said of my position as your companion.”

She watched him sit, he looked like he’d gotten a little sleep.

“Yes, and we already have the Royal Council wanting Nuada to set me aside for a Sidhe female.” She smiled. “They have been pushing since I was made queen...”

He watched her work, scribbling notes with a graphite stick. She would pause read and return to taking notes.

“...Has the decision troubled you?”

She looked up, “...Which one.”

He paused, realizing she had made several in the last few days.

“...Me.” He said. “To make my Lord...”

She paused, “...A lot of decisions trouble me.” She reached to touch his cheek. “You are not one of them...”

“...Would that my lady always says so.” He said, leaning into her touch.

She smiled, and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“...We need to study, I still must go to The Royal Seat and talk to the heralds there...”

He moved from her touch to pick up one of the tomes to begin reading.

Regis was lighting the lamps and turning on the solar lights when Crevan rose from the table, Pen had gone off a few hours ago for The Royal Seat to confer with the Heralds there.

“There is a meeting tonight,” Regis said. “...I’m just setting up for my assistants.”

Crevan stretched, reminded he was no longer used to sitting among tomes for hours on end.

“I think I do need to talk to my brothers.” He said. “A lot before the council…”

Regis finished his task, coming back to the table to tidy it.

“You will not be the only one, a lot of things come in during the Grand Council,” Regis said. “...The common demons are just icing...”

Crevan shuddered. “...That is frightening.”

“...We go nowhere alone, even to the Orb-weaver.” He said. “Tin runs a clean place, and has a Royal warrant, but a few slip under the radar as always...”

“So all have watchers...”

“We will hand out assignments at the table tonight. We look out for our own.” He said. “Our healer brother will be on duty at the Garrison. Since you are most likely to be with

Pen for most things, I’ll ask one of the Thorns.”

Crevan stretched again, “...Should I go get food beforehand?”

“Yes, I’ll see you there...”

He watched Regis ghost toward his quarters somewhere in the vast space.

Crevan made his way to the kitchens, the raiding cupboard would do well for a quick meal before sitting among his brothers. He dodged around the urchins that slept in the kitchens and did tasks for a few coins of honest labor. He set the fixings for a sandwich on the table and went to the cold room for a bit of roast beast and some cheese. He returned to see three of the urchins eyeing the loaf. He turned back to bring the meat to the table, allowing them to make their own. He made it to the table, still taking bites of his own sandwich.


	20. Nowhere alone

_Later that evening..._

Having sat among his brothers for several hours in preparation for the Grand Council, Crevan decided a bit of an extra walk among the gardens would be good. He found himself in a sculpted Alcove in the hedge. He knew it well enough, he and Ciri had sat there when they were shown the gardens. He sat now, letting the cold marble sink past his clothing. He looked up at the stars, clearing his head of all but their beauty. It took him a few moments to realize he was not alone. He rose to leave.

“...Don’t I don’t mind the company.”

He sat back down, it was not unusual to find stargazers in the garden at this hour. Torchlight showed him an Aen Elle, eyes as aquamarine as his own and hair the color of cooled ash. They sat in silence for a short while.

“Cannot sleep?”

“No, was meeting with a few friends and thought a walk after would be good,” Crevan said. “I was stopping to enjoy the stars…”

What the other Aen Elle said next set off alarm bells in his head.

“...I’ve seen you about, with Lady DeRosin.”

He turned, only nobles called Pen by DeRosin, most of the Manse and Freehold used Lady Thorn or simply Lady Pen. He frowned, he wasn’t going to talk of her to this Aen Elle. His reaction must have been what the other wanted.

“I see you do know her.”

He felt something sharp but had thought it was just the cold of the marble seeping in.

“Yes.” He rose. “And I do not discuss her with strangers...”

The Aen Elle snarled, his face twisted in an unnatural way.

“A human whore...that is all she is, she got lucky to win the King’s bed….”

He began a gesture to transport himself away, then burning sharp sang along his nerves. The other had used some sort of poison.

“...You should have inspected the bench when you sat down...for a Sage you are rather foolish.” The Aen Elle said, holding up a slender needle. “...I wonder what the Venom will do to one of our kind, already damaged.”

The kick to his ribs felled him to his knees, the pain intensified.

“It will only take a few more moments, and all you’ll be able to do is breathe...And I’ll-”

Fog, tinged dark surrounded the Aen Elle and blood spurted from his throat.

“I told you Crevan, we go nowhere alone…” Regis’ voice came from the mist. “...Help is coming...”

Regis drank enough to kill, then threw the body to the ground.

All Crevan could feel was pain, even the slight movement of the litter that carried him back to the Manse was like being set on fire. His fingers were twitching, and the tic in his face had gone rapid, adding to the burning pain. He could not scream, as his assailant had said all he could do was breathe and even that was pain.

“...Some kind of paralytic.” Came the Healer’s voice. “We’ll get a look at the needle and tell you in a few hours...”

Pen had come out from somewhere during the long trek back, the healer was talking to her. Her hand lay over one of his own, but he would endure that pain as long as she was close.

“...Whoever did this...”

“...We are trying to track how the assailant got in.” Regs’ voice. “And he didn’t taste like an Aen Elle...”

He somehow found that funny, but it was Regis, The vampire would know the difference. He turned his eyes, Pen was in night-clothes. No gown, but soft trousers and tunic. The realization that she wore sleeping Gowns for him touched someplace long-lost.

“...Polymorph?”

“A good question, we’ll find your answers...”

He faded out, the healer had given something to dull the constant burn and it took him down into cool darkness.

Pen frowned at the information she was brought, someone had managed to pluck several blossoms from the Golden Goblin but paid for it with their hand. Detlef had brought her the drained appendage, his feral face saying he’d gotten a taste of whoever had attempted to escape unscathed. They would be found, once one of the Higher vamps got a taste...she let herself smile.

“Find them, and bring me their head…” Pen said. “I do not care how…”

Regis was not surprised, She was dealing with this like the queen she was and not the Lady Thorn. He turned to look at his fellow vampire, who bowed to her. Detlef vanished in a blood-red mist to obey the order to hunt.

“...He is one weapon I did not expect you to use.” Regis said. “And we have set sevral crystals in the garden, so access is restricted now.”

“They wish to play dirty, and so I shall respond in kind.” She said. “And its been ages since the pack has gone on a proper hunt…”

Regis shivered, for her to unleash Detlef was one thing but to call to the pack he protected…The dark was going to be feared by even the Aen Elle for a long time.

When Crevan woke, Pen was sitting at his side, but Nuada was there as well. The king was not happy...

“...Rose Venom,” He said. “I thought no one could get close to that rose, let alone the courtyard.”

“Someone did, several times and we were lucky that Aethen was able to bargain the antidote from his cousins...”

He turned his head, but everything felt stiff as if he’d been compressed and brought back again.

“...How long…” He managed.

Her hand squeezed his gently.

“...A day and a few hours,” Pen answered. “...You got a good dose of the venom from the Rosa Carnivora. Whoever thought of using that...”

“...Will not see daylight for a century,” Nuada said. “I might even consider execution, no one calls my wife a whore...”

Regis must have followed him, to make sure it had just been a walk and a bit of stargazing. He was glad for the fanatic compulsion of his brothers now.

“You’ll feel stiff for a few days.” Pen said.

“For one who has never experienced it, you are using an understatement,” Nuada said. “But yes, you’ll feel like you’ve been encased in stone.”

He tried to lever himself up, strong hands helped him to a sitting position. Pillows propped behind him kept him upright. Just that act left him to wish to lay back down.

“...You’ll be tired for a few days as well.’ Pen said. “...It means you won’t be able to attend the Grand Council.”

~A Blessing and a Curse~ He thought.

“...It also means Dain has to come back to the Freehold. He won’t like that.”

“No, I know he won’t.” She said. “But I need a second for the Council.”

“Are you going to enter one of the contests, it is always impressive when you do,” Nuada asked.

“I’ve thought about it, to remind them that my blades are still sharp.” She said. “...I’m needed elsewhere, you two should talk...”

She was gone before either could protest.

Crevan wanted to hand his head in his hands, but that thought was much too tiring. Nuada moved to look out the window. They shared silence for a short time. Neither sure how to broach the subject.

“...It isn’t a good idea to anger her, is it?” Crevan finally said.

“No, not when it is someone she cares for.” Nuada said. “...And she places you firmly in that category. She unleashed the Vampire pack to hunt down the one who made the poison...”

He watched the King as more silence followed. He had heard how vicious the pack was from both Geralt and Regis. Her unleashing such a horror said she had been pushed past conventional anger.

“We should talk about...Our arrangements.” Crevan said. “Draw lines that cannot be crossed...”

“...That’s the rub isn’t it.” Nuada turned around. “Bound twice over. She cares, and will break everything she’s built, for us.”

“Ge’els will know that...That is the danger, he is righteous.” Crevan frowned. “...It is why he has gone after her court, and now me. He doesn’t think her scary enough to fear...The pack attacking to find the poisoner...”

“Also the Freehold is the largest tract of land not controlled by the Crown. I was generous with my Queen.” He smirked. “And it is a reminder of the cities that fell.” He said. “And she is also a Marchioness and a Duchess, though most forget about that little detail including her.”

He looked at the King, remembering what Regis said about Pen’s thorny relationship with nobility.

“Another thing that will stick in…” He yawned. “The Aen Elle court’s craw…”

Nuada did feel a mild affection for this male, an echo through the bond he shared with his queen. He also wished to see her happy and the sage made her happy in ways he could not.

“You will need your strength, I will leave you to your watchers…” Nuada said. “We will talk more...later.”

Crevan dozed off soon after Nuada left.


	21. Comes in threes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and this happened...

_A few days later..._

Crevan found annoyance in the stretches Pen insisted he do to stretch out his muscles. He was very much reminded that he’d neglected the maintenance of his body. He always seemed to be sorer than he’d started after each session. Then there was getting thrown across the sally...

“...The point of this is?” He asked, laying on his back after she’d hip thrown him for the twentieth time.

“Flexibility…” She said. “One style will lock you in, knowing several will give you a chance to adapt...”

He grabbed her ankle and pulled her down and rolled her to pin her.

“And you, my lady, were not paying attention.”

She leaned up for a quick kiss and then had him pined and swatted him on the side of the head.

“...Wench.” He said and turned to pin her again.

She brought her knee up as he came down, he rolled off groaning. She sprang to her feet.

“No cup…” She said. “...Your opponent isn’t going to play by the rules “rules”. I’ve ended up in more bar fights the duels…”

Pen knew mages couldn’t wear armor, but a few things of hardened leather didn’t hurt.

“...Don’t break your toys.” Nuada said as he came in. “I’ll not agree to replace them…”

It took Crevan a few minutes to stand up and limp to the bench. The double meaning of what Nuada said very clear.

“She went for the low blow didn’t she…” Nuada said as he stretched. “...She’ll use that until you learn to block or get protection…” He grinned. “I’m just faster...”

“After I punched him…” She said, pulling out her practice weapons. “...Ready to dance?”

Nuada grinned and adjusted a few things before picking up his shortened lance.

They made each other work for the blows they landed, ending with the tip of Pen’s blade under his chin, The point of his lance aimed at her leg. She would have taken him, but not without paying for it. Crevan was surprised, if Ge’els could see this he’d back off. Pen was a Sword Dancer, control and grace.

“...Picking your targets again.” Nuada asked, looking down her blade at her. “Good...”

She withdrew, sheathing the blades into their nested form.

“I’ve had enough of a workout.” She said. “I need to complete a few things for the grand Council...one of you come find me if I’m not out in ah hour...”

She headed off toward the baths, both watched her not sure if it was an invitation or a tease.

“...Tease.” Nuada said. “...Come on, the hot water will feel good.”

Crevan got to his feet, groaning. Yes, the hot water would feel good.

Pen was finishing up actually washing when they arrived to do their own. She slid into one of the Larger tubs and leaned against the rim to watch them.  
“Milady sees something she likes…” Nuada asked as he soaped up.

“A lot of things…” Pen said. “...and a perfect view.”

Nuada grinned as he took out his plaits to wash his hair. Crevan thought the same, noticing his hair was getting longer and needed to be trimmed again. The Sage finished first, walking over to the tub. Pen looked up a wide grin on her face, enjoying the eyeful she was getting.

“An even better view…” She said, making room so he could get in.

He found the seat to sit just beneath the water, letting the heat soak in. The slight slosh said Nuada had gotten in. Pen was sitting beside him, the king on the other side.

“...Tomorrow we argue…” Pen said, settling between the two males. “And hope the world does not burn.”

“Are you going to enter one of the contests?” Nuada asked.

“I had thought of it when you asked last, but I’ll let Dain remind them The Singers were not always benevolent this time around.”

“...You will have to defend your choice.” Crevan said, opening one eye to look at the Lover’s knot on Pen’s shoulder. “...This last incident says even my own people will have a problem with The Court of Thorns.”

“I think it more that Ge’els in his righteousness does not think this fits you...”

“I could have said no, to the oath and to my lady’s bed.” He said, turning enough to kiss the Tattoo. “...But even you have said that there are times you cannot protect her…”  
Pen made a sound of contentment, feeling his lips brush over her skin.

“Says the male who would have been King,” Nuada said, tracing the bramble on her hips. “But true...”

Crevan pulled Pen into his lap, smirking at Nuada. Something seemed to pass between the two of them.

“...Now, pray why this…” Pen said.

“Milady was very naughty...Trying to kick my jewels across the sally…” Crevan said, holding her in place and sliding his hands up to her breasts. “I do think my lady deserves a...”

“A time out…” Nuada laughed softly and leaned to kiss her, as Crevan nibbled on her shoulder and kneaded her breasts. “...Enjoy my lady…”

Both traded kissing her, fondling her. To say Pen was more than frustrated when the bath ended was an understatement.

Both males looked like cats gotten into the cream for the duration of dinner. Pen became very aware of the two of them after she had tucked the twins in. It seemed they wanted to finish what they started a few hours before in the bath.

Two sets of hands undressed her, each taking care not to rush or interfere with the other. Soon a bed welcomed three bodies, touch, and pleasure. Male sounds of contentment as two pressed the third between them, Pen did not know which way to turn, to touch and arouse. Both guided, touching her with warmth. Both would bear scratches and bites and leave some of their own upon her. Release came as a mere afterthought, but it came and she was left feeling like liquid between them.

Pen woke in the morning sandwiched between two bodies, both looking down at her as she slept. She could feel they were both aroused, and clearly neither was going to move enough for her to get up.

“Good morning, Un cysglyd,” Crevan said. “hungry?”

She tried to wiggle out from between them, they pressed closer. She said some choice words and continued to wiggle. Nuada found it amusing, they had ended up in the sandwich he’d teased her about though their focus had been on her.

“...She’s grumpy before she gets her coffee.” Nuada said.

Crevan frowned. “That foul brew…”

Pen was still wiggling, if she didn’t stop either would be held accountable for their actions.

“...I would agree, but it does improve her temper.”

Both felt her hands try to slide between them, squeezing hard. Both winced, they had focused upon her pleasure last night and not their own...thus their arousal this morning.

“Which you’ll both get a taste of if you don’t let me up to go to the bathroom...”

Knowing her better, Nuada rolled away so she could rise to relieve herself.

A servant came with a pot of tea, one of coffee and breakfast for three. They said nothing as they departed, but it was going to be interesting to hear the rumors.

“...I could get used to this…” Crevan said, laying back to enjoying the softness of the silk around them. “...When this is done.”

Nuada would have agreed with him if Pen had not returned and prepared her coffee, the mug would be warm. She looked at Nuada and smirked, she was going to play her favorite morning game.

“...Nice and warm,” She said as she climbed back in and gingerly touched the cup to Crevan’s crotch.

The Sage jumped, and again when she did it again between sips. It was slightly arousing but did not seem a safe action.

“...Hum. Fire in the forging…” Nuada teased until she pressed the still-warm cup to his. “One blade at a time my lady...”

She teased both of them with the warm mug on various places while she finished her coffee.

“...We need to get dressed,” She said, taking her cup and bounding toward the table.

Nuada more used to temperature play than the Sage lay on his back for a few moments before sitting up to watch Pen slid into a robe and head into the bathroom again.

Crevan frowned, remembering he’d said he wished to sleep alone. Nothing had been said of sharing her when she was in the King’s bed. His own reactions to that little bit of what appeared to be love play surprised him, as did the ease of his acceptance. He rolled out and gathered up his clothing, Nuada stopped him and pulled him back, holding him. This surprised him even more, but he remembered his oath was to the King as well.

“Crevan, this will not happen often,” Nuada said, kissing the Sage’s temple. “...us three together.”

He lay in the king’s arms for a few moments, watching Pen return from the bathroom, She paused, blinked twice and headed toward the table, seemingly un-phased by the two laying there when they had not touched each other the night before.

“I know, it will carry me through.” He said, then looked to where Pen was making another cup. “...Save some honey for those of us who do not drink that demon brew...”

Nuada released him to get dressed and head to the table for breakfast.


	22. Where to begin...

_A few hours later…_

Nuada settled himself in the window seat, seeing why Pen came here to contemplate thorny subjects. Crevan was quickly becoming a very thorny one, he almost regretted urging Pen to take the sage as her lover. The night before and this morning had been an adventure he was not sure he could repeat and not strangle the other male afterward. The jealousy he’d felt with her bonding to Aethen seemed a dim annoyance now. He looked to see a mug dangled in front of him. He looked up to see the half-elf with a grin on his face.

“...I thought I’d find you in her favorite spot to brood.” Aethen said. “...It's a good spot.”

He took the mug, he could smell cider. He had to grin, Pen had said she’d be drinking Crab apple cider if she was dealing with her fox.

“It’s pear…” He said. “I couldn’t find the Green apple...”

He looked at the half-elf, he looked as exhausted as he felt. He knew that Aethen would have some incite.

“You’ve had a relationship...like..this.”

Aethen nodded, “Once Upon a Time, I was even married to both...”

He moved so he was sitting opposite, he did not often talk of the relationship that had led him to Tindel. He would, however, would speak of what it had taken.

“...It takes work and communication. Both of which I did not put forth, the fool I was. It took Alissa’s leaving to make me realize what a dick I’d been. To be fair she was not happy living in a tavern, nor as a guard’s wife. I recovered enough of my brain to put forth the effort with Tindel.”

He paused, weighing what to say, to give the information needed so this did not blow up and break more than one heart.

“Us taking a third isn’t off the table, but we both realize it will take effort and a lot of talks will have to be had. Not just between us...but the lady or gentle male as well.” He took a drink of the mug he had. “...And the jealousy is normal, it says you have reservations that need to be talked of, all three of you.”

Nuada was surprised, it sounded so much like the kind of advice Pen would give. He took a drink.

“...She asked you to come to talk to me...didn’t she?”

He smiled, he’d been watching this dance since it had begun. The bonds tugging on his own to Pen.

“No. I’m bonded to her too, remember,” Aethen said. “I know from the jumble of feelings she’s keeping walled off from you, she never expected to have another bond let alone as Soul-Deep as the one to yous.” He studied Nuada. “...I have been jealous of you many times, so I know it stings. I heard there was a meeting of the Table last night...and the fox was not there…”

Nuada looked into the mug again.

“Regis was watching…” Nuada said, horrified.

The half-elf laughed softly.

“No, I do not think so. He’d need brain bleach if he caught sight of your pale ass…” Aethen said. “He didn’t need to reach the room, you were laud…” He smiled. “The vampire informed me, as a courtesy, as Captain of her personal guard...”

“Says the male who hears a mouse fart halfway across the castle…” Nuada said and took a swig out of his mug. “...Last night just sort of happened. Started teasing her in the bath...along with a bit of kiss and nibble.” He let out a sigh. “I’m still figuring out how the three of us fit together...”

“Pen ended up the creamy center.” Aethen teased. “Then I’d call it good…” He sighed. “Kidding aside, you need to talk...iron out what the rules are...”

“I am very aware of the need for rules. Talking about them is another matter...I do not know where to begin...Nor does the fox I suspect.”  
That said much, the king was beginning to care for the Sage as well. Though he doubted the king would have a physical relationship with the Sage, an emotional one could be just as intimate.

“For a start, don’t go all angst and menace…” Aethen said. “...That may get you what you want from the Council, but it is an awful way to have a relationship...and remember he’s a noble too. You are both aware of how the Court will view your arrangement and after this morning not just with Pen.” He looked into his mug. “...They can be simple as you want to know when they are together, or not to who picks out her jewelry and picks her undergarments. The latter can be fun, have the other guess...”

Nuada smiled, Yes that idea sounded fun and since he would be paying the coin for them...

“You like that idea,” Aethen said, seeing his smile. “We tried it for a week, forfeit left me with blue balls. I don’t recommend using that rule very often.” He sighed. “...Rules will not always curb the jealousy, and one can fall more for one than the other.” He took a swig from his mug. “Then there are the pitfalls you cannot foresee...”

“That is what I worry about.” He said. “That what we have built will end in ruin. I made a vow that she would never have to break herself again for anything...”

“I am well aware of that,” Aethen said. “Or else you would not have agreed to me all those years ago.” He took another drink. “She had him give the oath of blood and then his body.” He looked into his mug. “...I found that odd, so I decided to play Archivist. The Thorn Archive mentioned that it happened this way twice prior...both in the time of war.”

Nuada frowned, remembering he'd sliced the night elf's face open for the royal mark. He knew war was coming.

“You feel it too...it’s coming.”

“Yes, and knowing how much the humans wish to break our hold upon the world.” He fiddled with his mug. “Its why my cousins have little to do with the Sidhe or humans anymore.”

Nuada took a drink, considered the other elephant in the room.

“The mission the diary has asked of her...”

Aethen wondered when the king would bring that up. Pen had conferred a bit with him on the mater.

“That...she did consult with me on a few things.”

“How long?”

Aethen sighed. “A week. She requested two thorns in addition to the four you are sending and the navigator.” He said. “...Medical supplies, blankets, litters, three silver, and iron-tipped bolts.” He finished off the mug. “She also requested a copy of Crevan’s traveling clothes, in our colors of course.”

“...Her crossbow.” Nuada said. “And she does not want to be identified.”

“It could be one of the current Riders could recognize her...know who helped them,” Aethen said. “We have a long memory, and if she was identified as helping what the Aen Elle would consider fugitives...”

“That could mean trouble...With the Grand Council and the Aen Elle…” Nuada frowned. “...And our relationship.”

“Is it also she is going off to rescue the male who will be her lover?” Aethen said.

Nuada finished his mug, the grand council would be starting in a few hours.

“I do not know, but I’ll take your advice and talk to her.” He stood. “...We will need to keep an eye on both Crevan and the Aen Elle...”

“Easily done for one and not so much for the other,” Aethen said. “...Come on, let’s get ready...she’ll need the three of us."

Nuada stretched, he’d return here in the days that followed.

Crevan looked down at the Circlet that marked him as Lord of the Court of Thorns on the vanity before him. He had taken the oath, first by blood to the High Court, then by his body to Lady Thorn. He had taken both without thought, only action. He wondered what Ciri would have said, no doubt talked off in a jealous huff.

That brought up the memory of the She-elf, he could not remember her name now. He should have thrown her out on her ass when he’d found Ciri or at least after he’d bedded his swallow. The jealous shrew had made his task all the more troublesome, it had taken weeks to gain her trust back. His hand trembled thinking of it, he’d not gotten control over his tics until well after opening the gate for Ciri. They returned afterward when he was stressed, or high out of his mind. He took a breath, he never intended to be the latter ever again.

“...Lord Crevan...it’s time.”

He lifted the circlet to rest on his brow as an attendant made sure it would not slip down. He looked at the male in the mirror, then closed his eyes as he turned away to join the guards in the hall.

Pen was waiting for him, a similar circlet on her brow. An indication of the part she'd play for the Grand Council. He offered his arm, she took it. He looked at her, she must have talked to one of the female Aen Saevherne her hair was done up as a lady of that court. She’d done it for him, a sign that she stood for his honor as he did for hers. The only indication that she was queen was the brooch on her shoulder, that of the Royal house. He leaned down and was greeted with a soft kiss.

“...My lady looks the part tonight.” He said. “The last I saw you as such was when you sang at the welcome feast…”

She smiled and kissed him lightly again.

“...His majesty chose my clothing tonight...and said he would relinquish his bed to us if you could guess the Color of my undergarments.”

That caught him a bit off guard. A game to occupy his mind, he took a pointed look down her bodice, no sign there. There were other ways to find out, and he hoped an opportunity presented itself.

“He is most wicked to me…” Crevan said as they approached the doors to the Grand hall.

Pen’s only answer was a smile.


	23. Memory and muck

The chatter in the hall stopped when Pen and Crevan were announced. Many craned around to get a look at the Lord of The Court of thorns. The whispers were already rife that she’d cuckolded the King at Mid-Winter and had raised the other male to the rank of a lord to cover it up. It felt somewhat like Jareth’s court all over again. She had endured those whispers, she would endure these. Crevan led her to the queen’s seat and took the seat beside her. She turned to see Rhiannon on Nuada’s other side.

Pen let herself have a small smile at the sight of her Spy Mistress playing “Mistress” to the king again. She reached under the table for Crevan’s hand and squeezed gently. He returned her squeeze and tried to make conversation with the lord on his other side, who appeared to be of the Aen Elle Court. The whispers grew louder when the human delegation came in. It seemed she and Crevan were the main topic of gossip, even to humans.

Nuada pried her fingers from the eating dagger, quietly reminding her that this was the Grand Council and the repercussions would get messy. Crevan had her other hand so she could not slide the stiletto out of her sleeve to bury in the throat of the haughty bitch across from them.

For Crevan, this was a lesson on why Pen usually went to court functions as Head of her guild or Lady Thorn rather than Queen. He could not see enduring even a few minutes of their vicious words, let alone the hours' court functions lasted.

“...Perhaps my lady and I should go for a walk.” Crevan offered. “...It is stuffy in here...”

Pen agreed, an excuse to get out before she threw something sharp at the haughty bitch that was loudly insulting her and the Court of Thorns.

They were well away from the hall when Pen stopped in her stride. She hated Court and politics. Crevan took her in his arms and held her in place. She leaned into his embrace.

“...I usually have a thicker skin.” She said. “...I have a lot to think of...”

She could see he did not want to be in the open, there were enough rumors. They did not need ones that they were conspiring to overthrow The King.

“There is an alcove little ways up, enough for two...”

They continued on the alcove was perfect.

“I take it you and Nuada trysted here.” He said maneuvering her to sit on his lap.

She smiled, settling herself.

“Yes, and had to be quiet too...”

He looked and realized despite the bit of shelter the hall was very public.

“...Perhaps my lady and I will do the same one day.” He promised. “...For now, I have a puzzle to solve...”

He maneuvered her to sit facing him the skirts were making it a bit difficult. She placed her hands on his shoulders. He ran his hands up her thighs, feeling the other dagger she carried. He gave her smirk as he continued upward feeling a wisp of fabric on her hips. She shivered, he had good hands.

“Lacy…” He said. “...Delicate...”

“Expensive…” She reminded him.

He smiled. “...Yes, I’ll try not to damage them once I find out their color...”

Getting nothing but a wiggly woman on his lap, Crevan moved up to feel around her bodice.

“The same down this way…” He said, pushing aside the fabric on her shoulder to look for straps. “Blue...”

“Exact color…” She said. “Or else you forfeit me for the night.”

“Night Blue…” He said and dipped his head to kiss between her breasts. “...And I guess one of his majesty’s favorite colors...but we will simply sleep tonight. I wish to keep my promise until this is done, though last night was fun...”

“...Is it because you had Ciri then?” She said. “You do not wish to dishonor that memory...”

He nodded, “...We were not lovers yet, nor really much. I do not know what I will do to see her again, though I know I shouldn’t…”

She traced his cheekbones, he was very much the fox. She moved to brush her fingers in the hair at his collar. He made a soft sound. She could not wait until his hair grew out into silky strands.

“Tell me of where you bedded her first...”

A chance to tell a ‘Story’ to her and have a reason why they were sitting there.

He held her against him. “The time of the end...before Geralt defeated Imlerith. She slaughtered the crones. I came to her call, she wasn’t innocent but the final step needed to be taken. She told me, I was the one she chose. She told me again and again…” He said. “We carried on but were not lovers. I think you humans would have called it hooking up...”

She laughed. “...Yes, I think that is an appropriate term. But Shagging works too.”

He laughed, genuine and amused. She liked it when he made that sound.

“I like to Geralt, refused to tell him my feelings.” He smirked. “I was more worried that he’d use his sword when he found out I was...hem...trysting with Ciri.” He leaned back against the wall, still holding her. “I knew she’d follow the path once she had fulfilled the prophecy, I had not realized how that would affect me...”

“...What did he do when you did tell him?”

He laughed again, “...Yen took care of that, a moat. High summer and neck-deep in foul muck, on the other side of Boclair. After extracting myself from the said moat, I stomped to the nearest tavern, ordered an ale. Spat most of it out to clear the taste of shit from my tongue. I then stomped back to the Vineyard. Ciri found it amusing, I did not. I threatened to portal Yen to somewhere that matched her demeanor...”

“And…” Pen said with some amusement.

“Another moat, I don’t think I smelled anything other than shit for a month. Between that and Geralt dragging me from bed at the crack of dawn. I had gone through training once already thank you.” He sighed. “...It was peaceful there. I came to miss it, not even Tir Na Lia brought me as much peace as I had there...”

She found that a bit amusing, trying to imagine him covered from head to toe in the muck, shit and rotting vegetation, the only thing visible the vibrant blue she was looking into now.

“Every summer…” She prompted. “You, Ciri and the children…”

She watched a smile play on his lips, a pleasant memory.

“Yes, despite our distance...I watched my children run feral, and I got to feel like we were a family still for a little while.” He listened for a few minutes. “...It was hard for Ciri to watch the world she knew disappear...”

She remembered the “Modern” world falling in the last war, oh there were still cities and technology but most had fallen.

“...Not as hard for me, but I can understand.”

He’d near forgotten she’d seen two wars between Humans and Sidhe and a third lay on the horizon.

“What was it like for you, when you met Nuada...”

“Which time.” She said. “...I was still an apprentice when I first met him. I wasn’t afraid of him, I found him fascinating. I didn’t know why then. I collided hard enough for the edge of his armor to bruise my face and cut my cheek. Lochain once said the mark was imprinted on my soul as well that day.”

“...Am I the same, I fascinate you.” He asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“...More than that.” She said. “I am in awe of you. Of how hard you have fought, of how far you’ve come.”

She kissed him, sliding her tongue against his. He responded, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened before they parted.

“...A little kiss and nibble…” He teased. “...My lady is being naughty again.”

She smiled. “We should head back, we will need to have at least one dance...”

“...I thought we were having one already…” He said.

She shimmied off his lap and adjusted her clothing. He looked down, groaning, his reaction to their kiss evident. She pulled him to his feet, pulling him close, debating on taking him into the privy to relieve him. She decided against it, wanting more than just a quick release.

“We need to see if we are still the subject of gossip or someone else has taken the spotlight...”

He let out a sigh, “Can I gloat that I have guessed...”

She pulled him back toward the hall, laughing in delight.


	24. boiling over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frustrations manifest in a row between Nuada and Crevan, leaving Pen's heart divided.

Nuada watched Pen return with Crevan, both looking a bit ruffled. He let a smile tug at his lips, as they moved into the dance. He had already danced with Rhiannon, sparking a bit of gossip that he had not cared about being cuckolded as he already had a mistress. The conflicting gossip would give a smokescreen for Pen to disappear and carry out her mission.

“...You allow a trader in your court.” The Aen Elle delegate said.

He turned his head, fixing the delegate with a menacing stare.

“To you perhaps,” Nuada said, trying to sound Bored. “...He has done nothing to warrant that title in my court...”

“He has bedded your queen, cuckolded you, claimed your land…”

It sounded like Ge’els, and he’d had just about enough of that bullshit.

“The Court of Thorns is not mine but belongs to House DeRosin.” He said, tightly. “By the old law, my queen can take lovers as she wishes. I have done the same,” He reached over to bring Rhi’s hand to his lips. “...I’m sure she shall tire of him soon, thus I tolerate it.”

He wasn’t going to tell the Aen Elle that the queen had never taken a lover before, and Crevan was something more than a lover or would be. A second dance, this one a bit more lively.

“...When he puts a blade in your back.”

He had considered that but knew Crevan had little need for steel if he wished to kill.

“His head will meet the floor followed by his body,” Nuada said. “He has taken his blood oath to my court, to my queen and to me...can you guess which of those I hold in high regard…”

The delegate frowned, “It is your death...”

Nuada rose and took Rhiannon’s hand. “Let us dance...”

Rhiannon let the king whirl her out on the dance floor.

The dancing wound down, Rhiannon was off to the side with Pen. The news of various delegates distracted her from the gossip. She knew several would use the rumors to push their agendas, demand sanctions. She was also watching Crevan talking to members of The House of the swallow.

“...You and himself certainly know how to shake things up.” Rhiannon said in a low tone. “...Bets are out on how long your fox is going to keep his balls and there is a bounty on his head.”

She’d heard of the bounty and found it ludicrous to attempt to kill an Aen Saevherne.

“...I have heard about diamonds.” She said, watching Crevan cross his arms and close himself off “And his weight in gold...”

“...Emeralds if they take out you as well.” Rhiannon said. “We’ve taken out at least three who have attempted...”

“Three in a single night...A new record.”

“One was about to sneak up on your little walk...”

Pen frowned. “...They would have gotten my stiletto...”

“We were neater.” She said. “You should make an exit, himself and I will follow shortly...Aiden has cleared the rooms.”

Pen nodded and went to retrieve Crevan from his kinsmen.

Pen had divested herself of finery by the time Rhi and Nuada came to the room. She hadn’t taken off her dress but she was sitting leaning up against Crevan. Rhiannon left via the solar door, intending to loop through Pen’s rooms and meet up with Aiden.

“Night blue…” Crevan said when Rhi had left.

Nuada huffed. “Lucky guess…”

“Now knowing his majesty's favorite color is blue, shall I expect to be guessing various shades...”

Nuada frowned, “...Don’t press your luck.”

Pen stood and went to divest herself of her dress, and get into night-clothes. She came back in a night-gown of delicate blue, clearly without undergarments.

“...I’ve not seen that before,” Nuada said. “And you don’t normally wear them…”

Nuada looked at Crevan, who was appreciating the view the sheer fabric was giving.

She smiled "Something special…”

Crevan stood to strip to his breeks, folding his clothes neatly. Nuada went to do the same, though preferring to sleep naked. Despite the view, sleep sounded like a good idea.

When he returned, Crevan was already snuggled against Pen’s side beneath the covers. She was on top of them, propped against the headboard reading what looked like her favorite book. She smiled at him and went back to her book. He got in on the opposite side, the bed big enough they could all stretch out. He watched Pen until she finished reading and snuggled down to sleep between them.

Pen slipped from bed before dawn, she had a few things to prepare. She began inspecting her gear. The mission the diary asked would be spanning worlds, she had to be sure her gear would work in all of them, thus being slightly archaic with her weapon. She made sure her clothing could not be identified as anything other than Aen Saevherne robes.

Crevan found her preparing. He ran his hand over the dark embroidered fabric, remembering waking in the wagon that would bring him and Ciri to the Manse and the Freehold. She had been wearing it when she’d introduced herself to Ciri, stained with his blood.

“...Soon?” He asked.

“...A few hours.” She said. “I know you know what will happen.”

He put his arms around her, “...I had to protect her. I do not regret that it lead me to much more.”

“Nor should you, she saved worlds…” She said softly. “This will be hard, not to fall for you, to tell you…”

He smiled, she did not know it had been the other way around. He had fallen for her despite his love for Ciri. He also knew she could never love the male he’d been, Ciri could. He was beginning to understand why Nuada did not want her to break herself for anything again.

“...I will know in some way when I see Deir and Nod, I will see Lara,” He said. “...Be kind to her, and tell her of the gift I will give her.”

She smiled, leaning into his embrace.

“You expect me to be jealous.” She turned in his arms. “...I’m not, I know what a divided heart looks like.” She said softly. “Do you wish me to make arrangements so you can see her again.”

He pulled back slightly, He desperately wanted to say yes. That would only make what was before him all the more difficult. She saw his hesitation, knowing it was his choice.

“Ask me again after you find the thread for me…” He said. “I still must deal with what Lara chose, the lie she told.” He sighed. ‘And how I feel about that lie. This has been a distraction, one I needed.”

She thought a moment, there was someplace special she wanted to show him, so he could return there as he desired.

“There is one place I want you to come with me...A place we Singers have held in trust.” She said. “Get dressed, we can go and be back before I must prepare to leave...”

He left for his own quarters and returned to find Pen ready to travel as well.

“...It is not far...and the portals are stable.”

He followed her out of the room to the stables.

She brought him to a cave he knew, he’d painted the images on the walls. He pressed the hidden latch that lowered the wall, surprising Pen. His smile was worth the trip...

“...I painted the images…” He said. “Geralt suggested I add something...I obliged.”

She blinked, well considering how arrogant he’d been at the time...It also explained a few things.

“That explains the Dongs…” She said gesturing to the stick figures.

He laughed as they stepped in, stopping in front of Lara’s statue. It now held a sparrow in her hand. He took in a breath, time stood still here.

“...You don’t come here often.” He said, noting there were one or two “fresh” graves.

She looked up at Lara, and then at him. He had always spoken of her with affection the stories said.

“No, I come about twice a year, at Sovan and Beltine. We laid Lochain to rest here, the ashes of one my children are buried here…”

He paused, he’d met her four children, the three sons, and daughter with Nuada. He had not heard mention of a fifth.

“You have four…” He said. “I didn’t…”

She sighed, not even she and Nuada talked of the miscarried child they had conceived in hope and lost.

“Five, between Tam and Dain,” She said. “I made a sacrifice, it wasn’t until later I found the child wasn’t viable, a heart defect. I come to clean both graves, Lochain only had me left...”

He followed her to Lochain’s grave and the small stone beside it. He watched her tend the smaller grave, clearing the vines around the stone.

“Boy or a girl?” He asked.

She paused and continued to Lochain’s grave.

“I did not ask, and all I felt was the loss.” She said. “Considering, most likely a boy...I had only ashes.”

“...Ciri and I had only one boy.” He said. “I didn’t know who was more stubborn...he became an Aen Saevherne...”

She smiled. “Form the way you say it, I can guess who won most of the arguments.”

“...Cirdan is his grandson.” Crevan sighed. “He likes The Court of Thorns, raised on the stories of your court I told. Knowing now, I’d say he likes Rhiannon better...”

“He will be disappointed, Aiden is her life partner, despite her supposed reputation.” She finished cleaning. “...Grand me luck, Lochain…”

Her words surprised him, she was asking spirits.

“You ask luck of the dead?” He asked.

She touched Lochain’s stone.

“Only of Lochain,” She said. “...He died defending me and my children for a mad queen.”

She rose up, dusting off her trousers. She stopped in front of Lara’s statue.

“...Watch over us all.” She said, Touching the base. “We need to go now...”

Crevan nodded, he would have to come back to talk to Lara when he came to full terms with what she had done to protect their child.

They returned to find the Manse up in arms, Pen had told no one she and Crevan were going to the Graveyard. Nuada was less than pleased to have woken up alone. He had searched the whole Manse for her.

“...That was a stupid move.” He said, getting the two of them into the solar. “...They could have used the opportunity to attack you both...”

“I needed to see Lochain before I do this…” Pen said. “I did not think a quick jaunt would upset you…”

He slammed his fist to the table, making the dishes jump.

“You did not think…” He growled.

Not liking the way Nuada was fuming, he stepped in to defend his lady.

“I am equally responsible,” Crevan said. “I agreed to go with her, her safety was my concern.”

Nuada frowned, his patience tested beyond measure in the past weeks with the Aen Elle and other factions and not knowing how to deal with his feelings on the Sage’s

relationship with Pen, snapped.

“You, Lord Crevan, are rapidly becoming a thorn in my side…” Nuada hissed. “...I will not play this game any longer...”

The blow was swift, drawing blood. Crevan stumbled back and fell.

Anger, cold and clear crept across Crevan’s face and he launched himself at Nuada. No Magick, only brute strength. He tackled the king, growling his own frustrations of the last weeks and the pent up feelings of the revelations he’d learned in them.

The table splintered as they collided with it, sending dishes and liquids flying. Both ignored the mess as they threw blows upon each other, targets for their anger. Plates shattered around them, the tension manifesting as a destructive power.

Pen shielded herself with her arms, an opening and both found themselves facing the points of her blades. Nuada knew he’d fuck up, Crevan looked up the blade at her in disbelief. She would have skewered them both if they’d continued.

“Enough…” She said, standing between them among the carnage they had wrought “...Just enough.”

Nuada wiped the blood from his mouth, Crevan spat his to the floor as he levered up to his feet.

“As my lady wishes…” Crevan said and marched out into his own quarters.

Nuada looked about him, then at her. He knew he shouldn’t have let his anger get this far.

“Go…” Nuada said. “Do what you must...”

Pen sheathed her blades and walked out, her heart torn in two


	25. Rescue of the swallow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here onward is exclusive to the Archive

Having heard of the Row, and Pen’s reaction, Aethen went to find her, knowing she’d avoid her usual spot. He hoped she wasn’t out in the garden hitting trees. He found her in the temple, her gear laid out upon the altar. She was asking the luck of the Gods for this mission as well as luck for Lochain’s sprite.

“...I expected one of them.” She said, lighting a bit of incense. “But I know neither will apologize or beg...”

He lit some as well, looking up at the face of the goddess of Night and Death. He murmured a prayer as he set the stick in the sand.

“...You also know neither will be happy until you return.” He said. “...I told himself to talk, apparently, that means with his fists.”

She set hers in and whispered her own prayers.

“Crevan could have fried him...But went bare-knuckle instead…”

He could see that both men had been asked to tolerate a lot in the last few weeks. Her not telling Nuada of her little trip beforehand and been the last straw.

“...You don’t waste power on stupid things.” Aethen said. “Both will be sporting some interesting bruises. The fox can hold his own…”

She smiled, looking over the items on the altar.

“He was a Red Rider long before he was a Sage…” She said. “...I do not know how to sort this out…”

He knew this had been hard on her despite the fun she’d been having. He came behind her and held her.

“You and Crevan are still new, it will create feelings you haven’t felt in a while.” He said, “and has made me jealous as hell.”

She leaned into the embrace, just wanting to feel another holding her.

“I’m beginning to understand how Nuada felt, torn between two loves...even if one is not good for you.” She said. “Especially since I never intended to feel it with anyone else but him…”

He’d be honest with her, as he always had been.

“...Nor did I.” He turned her to face him. “...I hold a bond too. I feel the conflict, the pain...your unease...and need.”

She looked into Aethen’s violet eyes, he had been a stable guiding force in her life, thus her endearment for him.

“Help me dress...my dark star.”

Aethen smiled, here in the temple love was a sacred act as would be dressing her.

Aethen’s hands worked the ties on her clothing, pushing it back off her shoulders to pool at her feet. He knelt, kissing her navel and untied her trousers, his fingers brushed he small cluster of black stars on her thigh. He kissed them, parting her stance as he leaned up to lick up between her folds to the small pearl wrap his lips around it. Her moan encouraged him. He used his tongue, licking and sucking. Her hands slid into his hair, to hold him there as he pleasured her. He took his reward as she shuddered.

Rising to his feet, he traced the bramble knots with gentle fingers, pulling energy up through them. His hands traveled upward, cupping her breasts before cupping her cheeks to kiss her. She poured every ounce of her frustration into the kiss as he moved to lay her on the stone.

The kiss was brief, he pulled away to divest himself of his tunic, her hands moving over his skin, He groaned, having wanted to touch her again for so long. He returned to kissing her as her hands traveled down, seeking more. He broke the kiss, laying his head on her shoulder, reminded of the price he’d pay if it went beyond these stolen moments. He let her stroke his back.

“Pen…”

She looked up at him her hands moving to slide down his chest.

“Yes, my dark star…”

He lowered his head, took a nipple into his mouth and suckled, her hands in his hair again, her nails pricking the scalp. He pulled back long enough to take the other nipple, she withered against him.

He rose, clearly affected. He pulled her up, pressing against him. He lifted her to sit on the altar, returning to kiss her, setting her hands upon the ties of his own trousers. He felt them drop away, along with his breeks. Her hands moved to stroke, rewarding her with a soft groan. Her hands moved to stroke up his back as he stepped forward. The pull to give in to his desire and have his queen wrapped around him, riding him.

“None but the gods see us now…” He whispered. “Command me…”

“...Aethen, my dark star…” She said. “take me...”

He pulled back, looking down before her hands came to pull him forward. He lifted her up enough so she could slide down his aching cock. They looked into each other's eyes as they began to move.

They came to earth on soft sounds, endearments, and hungry kisses. Stepping from her embrace, he picked up the first piece of clothing she was going to wear sliding it over her head. He stood her up long enough to put on the trousers, all between continued kisses. He knelt to tie the sashes, and fasten the belts.

She stood before him, an echo of the male she was going to rescue save in shades of red and black. He pulled the mantle over her shoulders, fastening it with the blackened ring broaches and a garnet brooch. He moved to acquire his clothing but she stopped him and knelt.

“One last reward, my dark star…”

He arched as she took his cock, still hard into her mouth. A flick of her tongue and he came undone once more.

He gave her one last kiss, lingering as he fastened his tunic. He knew why she was doing this, not just the sex. It was not for the mission or some sort of blessing, without Ciri or Crevan the House of the Swallow would not exist, and an ally lost. For want of a nail and all that…

“...Pen, my lady…” He said softly.

“My dark star…” She said, brushing a bit of hair back. “...Thank you...”

He smiled. “You know himself…”

She put a finger to his lips, shaking her head.

“...We will return to the manse now.” She said. “And gather our little band.”

He pulled on his boots, nodding.

_The Manse, a short time later…_

The small band gathered, ready to depart. Pen did the last minute checks, this mission could not fail. She did not see either of her lovers upon her return, frowning as she saddled the horses that would take them to the portal location. Aethen was her second, he had left her briefly to put on his armor.

The guard and Thorns were dressed in shades of Black and Red. The Navigator looked uncomfortable, they looked like bits of shadow surrounding him. The wagon was going to follow and carry back their charges.

“...Remember, the Riders we shall face will be still led by Eredin.” Pen said. “Take them down with iron or silver if we have to...We are to gather the Aen Saevherne Avallac’h and Lady Ciri, and bring them here...”

There were nods all around, they knew their orders. Aethen swung into the saddle first, followed by Pen and the others.

Pen stood next to the litter that carried the badly injured Sage, another carried an unconscious Ciri. She couldn’t treat them here, this was not safe. The Riders were coming, as they always did in their pursuit of Ciri.

“Ash and thorn…” She cursed as the temperature dropped. “Cold Spell. Their coming…”

They needed to hurry, the Riders were not far away now. She turned to watch her navigator open the Portal, she loaded her crossbow. She pulled up the scarf to hide her face, all they needed to see was an Aen Saevherne standing against them.

“Our portal is stable…” Came the young Navigator’s words on the increasing wind.

Pen nodded, moving to take the rear crossbow at the ready.

“We need to go, Now…” Aethen’s voice rose above the wind.

Her people hurried through, she stood her ground and fired. The first rider that slid through the offending portal was shot off their horse as their portal closed.

The prior portal was only the first, Pen looked at the two she rescued as her men began to treat their injuries. Ciri’s were minor, mostly a bump on the head and an injured ankle, easily set and bound. Avallac’h however...had gotten between Ciri and the Riders. Several bolts in his back and one through his thigh. The ones in his back had been snapped low, the one in his thigh snapped and pulled through before being bound. The temperature began to drop again, the cold finding them along with the Riders.

“Fuck…” She hissed in a tone that would have made a certain long-dead witcher proud. “...Get ready to move...now.”

“...A few more minutes...The portal has to open.” Came the Navigator’s voice. “Ash and Thorn...”

Pen loaded her crossbow again, her second bolt. A second rider died as they crossed the portal, a dead shot to the throat. She followed her people through, knowing now why the Diary had said portal travel required fortitude.

The Final portal, they could rest for a little while. Pen checked on the Navigator, he assured her he could stabilize the portal into the Court of Thorns. She nodded, waiting for the temperature to drop. She would take out a third rider, as they could not follow where they were going. She readied her final bolt, she knew just who she would shoot and the dominoes that would fall into place after. The offending portal opened and the bolt flew as the one opened up behind her and she vanished with her people. She swore she could hear the King of the hunt curse as the portal closed behind them.

_A short while later..._

The rattle of wagon wheels on the stone of the courtyard told The healers Lady Thorn had returned, with her charges. Orders were shouted, feet hurried as Avallac’h was unloaded. Blood already stained the makeshift bandages on his back, and the one on his thigh was soaked through. He was carried into one of the surgery rooms. Pen would see to Ciri first as the healers were going to have their hands full.

Ciri was carried into a guest suite, her ankle set and bound. Aethen agreed to look after her until she woke. He settled down with a book, knowing it would be some time before the lady of time and space woke from the knock she’d taken. He watched Pen hurry out, he had a feeling he knew where she’d go after she helped the healers, he sent word to the two males hoping one of them had the sense to go talk to her.

Pen returned to where Avallac’h was, the surgeons pulling out the bolts. The needle bodkins gleaming with the Sage’s blood. She knew how nasty those were they could punch through even modern armored vests.

“...Can I be of any aide?” She asked.

The head healer nodded. “Welcome it…”

She began to sing, “Banks of the Lee” the only song her torn in two heart could conjure. This was why her song had effected him at the Welcome feast, it had been the one that had kept him on the living side of the veil. She channeled power into the song, healing the worst of the damage.

For a moment, Avallac’h opened his eyes, to stare at the dark-haired Aen Saevhern who was singing. He felt the warmth of the song easing his breath and lessening the pain. He tried to tell her to leave him, protect Ciri. Then the blackness came, pulling him down into its depths. As he slid down, he wondered why she would put such an effort to save him. A voice answered him, sounding so much like one of the unicorns.

~Cân y galon~

He had no time to ponder those words as an even deeper blackness pulled him down completely.

Pen stepped back, letting out a breath. The healers could work from there. She turned out of the room and eventually out of the Manse.

_A few hours later…_

Pen had paused only long enough to send word to Nuada and Crevan of her return, saying she’d be in the Orb-Weaver if they needed her. She was on her third cider when a mug was plunked in front of her.

“...Water, drink it.”

She looked up to see Nuada, dressed in simple clothes, a bruise blooming a deep crimson on his jaw. It said that he and Crevan had not stopped their “talk” after she had left.

“...When I’m drunk enough.”

“Now...woman.” He said. “And food...”

Tindel brought a bowl of stew and a thick piece of buttered bread. She eyed it, then looked up at her husband.

“...Fuck off.” She hissed, in no mood to talk to him or anyone else.

He slammed his hand on the table, making the bowl jump and spill over her clothing.

“Stubborn wench…” He said. “You cannot...”

“You are one to talk of stubborn...”

He stopped realizing what she'd seen in her journey, and the condition of the two she rescued.

“...I do not wish to argue.” He said. “...and its enough you came here to hid from us...”

“I’m not hiding, I’m getting drunk...Difference.”

“...And neglecting a charge.” He said. “...Eat something at least...”

She stood and threw the mug of water in his face before heading toward the back where Tindel and Aethen kept rooms.


	26. Across a tightrope...

Mourning brought Pen back to the Manse, still dressed in her stained traveling clothes. She felt like she’d whacked her head on a stone. It wasn’t as bad if she had decided on Ale, but the minor ache behind her eyes and the too-bright lights reminded her that she had been foolish and should have at least drank the water before she’d stormed off.

Tindel made sure she had breakfast before she left, wanting her to have something to eat before she faced the two males who had vexed her the day before.

“Don’t let them convince you they didn’t continue their little...talk after himself went back to the manse,” Tindel said. “...Ones like them…”

Two Raven guard showed up, one tapping their foot. She knew it was Tam, he was the only one of the Raven guard who expressed their annoyance like that.

“Oh look, my escort is here…” She said, downing the last of her eggs.

_A short while later…_

Pen went straighten to the healing rooms, not bothering to change until she looked in on Ciri. She talked to the healers as she walked down the hall, using the common tongue since they were a small group of Fey and Aen Elle.

“...We’ve put the sage into a light sleep, and chose the pain killers carefully.” One of the healers said. “He looks worse for ware right now, and the signs of the rot are already on him...”

She knew that would be true, it had been halted by his love for Ciri and at this point, they were little more than mentor and student. She rolled her shoulders, reminding herself that she had to let things play out.

~You cannot push time~ She reminded herself.

“...We are keeping a careful watch. Those points could have been coated with anything...”

She nodded as they paused outside Ciri’s door.

_Ciri’s quarters…_

The strong smell of food woke Ciri from sleep. She opened her eyes to a strange place, the smell of food was coming from a table near the hearth. It looked a lot like the rooms in Tir Na Lia. She panicked for a moment thinking she’d been captured again. It took a few moments before she realized there were voices in the hall, in the common tongue. The Aen Elle did not speak the common tongue.

She turned to look at the rest of the room. Beside her was a Silver-haired, Gray-skinned male in what looked like a bastardization of Knight’s armor, a book in his hands.

“...You’re awake…” The voice was pleasant, and mater of fact. “I will let the healers and The lady Thorn know...”

The man departed, pausing to talk to someone at the door.

*  
Aethen opened the door, pausing to talk to the two guards, Pen was needed, as she’d asked to know when Ciri woke. He saw her with the healers, talking. He gained her attention and pointed inside. She nodded, breaking off from the healers.

*  
A few moments later, a woman dressed much like Avallac’h entered, her dress only differed in color and the ornamentation of a Brooch. She noticed the bone and jet beads in the woman’s ears, ending in a ring at the top curve. Her first thought was the woman was an Aen Saevherne.

“You are safe here, they won’t find you...Not for a while.” The woman’s voice held the lit of the Aen Sidhe.

The woman must have known she was in danger...the woman had to be a sage.

“I am Pen Aep Danu.” She said. “Head of the Singer’s guild, Lady Thorn….”

“Where am I...”

“The Rose Manse, Court of Thorns...and as I said, they will not find you for some time...”

Ciri managed to sit up, her head hurt and her ankle throbbed.

“You took a knock to the head and your ankle is dislocated.” Pen said. “Your companion...He was in bad shape...Rider’s arrows, nasty barbs those.”

“His name is...”

“Avallac’h…” Pen said. “Are you bonded?”

Ciri wondered what she meant by that, she held no bond over the Sage. She barely liked him, he was only teaching her.

“He’s my mentor...teacher.”

Pen looked at her and shook her head. Then again perhaps she knew more than she let on.

“...As you believe…” Pen said. “You should eat...I’ll bring a brace and clothing for you...”

Ciri nodded, this woman seemed so cold all of sudden.

Pen gave orders for Ciri to have clothing and a brace for her ankle so she could move to the table to eat. She headed toward the bathing room, she needed to wash the road and the minor pang of jealousy she was feeling away.

*  
 _Bathing rooms…_

Crevan found her, soaping away the smell of horse, road, and blood from her skin and senses. He stripped to join her, remembering her song lulling him into the healing sleep. He felt a bit stiff, as he’d attempted to talk to Nuada, civilly, but that had ended in another tussle one Pen was not there to halt. Both he and the king were sporting impressive bruises from that “conversation”.

“...You have your charges settled, then.” He asked as he took the sponge from her and soaped her back. “...Aethen told us you had come home.”

She leaned into the touch, “Yes, Ciri is safe...”

“I am not ready to give my answer yet...”

she turned slightly “I did not expect you to.”

She took the sponge from him and soaped it to wash him.

“...This will not be easy, will it.”

“No, my dearest sage, it will not.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “...I see the beginnings of what you two had.”

“We will need to talk seriously...”

She touched where his cheek was bruised and saw there was on his ribs too.

“Without provoking each other preferably.”

“I think that was because we left him out...Both of us are not inclined to share...”

“I am aware...” She said. “Your little tussle made me very aware of that.”

He took the sponge from her.

“Yes, and Ciri will want to be close to me...”

“Even now?”

“Yes, do not let her be alone.”

Pen smiled and rinsed off, leaving him to wash.

*  
Pen changed her clothes and went to see Ciri, now sitting at the table. The lady of space and time looked older than her years. Still a child in many aspects, barely fifteen. Yet in that time she had run from the hunt, been a thief and an apprentice mage and witcher. Crevan had said she wasn't innocent, she could see where that would be true. She probably would not notice anything but the need to be close to her mentor.

“Lady Thorn…” He said. “Avallac’h, I need to see him.”

“The healers say he isn’t stable yet, but as soon as he is…” She said. “And you should stay off that ankle...”

“Please...”

Pen looked at her, she would have said the same if it had been Nuada. She had, many times over.

“Talk to the healers, it is their say.” She said. “I will send one in to make sure you’re Ok to go anywhere and give you a stick to lean on...”

Pen left the room, They had run so much that being separated was cause for demand to see the other.

#  
Nuada frowned as he and Crevan made their way to Pen’s study. They both could barely look at each other. Both were still hurting from their previous “Conversation”. They had spoken less than two words to each other in as many days. Neither wanting to be the first to apologize.

Both had a shock that morning, waking up in the same bed. Neither knew how they had ended up there, nor how they had come to be curled together like a pair of spoons. It had been the giggle of a servant girl that had awakened them. Then came the screams of masculine horror as they scrambled to separate. Aethen had laughed all through breakfast, threatening to tell Pen. If looks could kill, the half-elf would have been a bloody smear on the floor.

They settled into the chairs, looking over to Pen’s desk laden with books and papers. It was a bit neater than when Lochain had used it but it still looked like Chaos. But no doubt Pen could find every scrap of paper she needed. Both looked at the locked Display cabinet behind it, the one tome that no one was allowed to handle anymore.

“...I had wondered where that went.” Nuada said looking at the book. “...The scéalaí used it to aid in telling his tales...”

Crevan raised an eyebrow. “...I’m guessing that Pen has read that to the twins?”

“A version…” Nuada said. “The original is too delicate, thus locked.”

Crevan ran a hand through his hair, frowning as if he wished to cut it. Nuada smirked, Pen loved to play with his hair after he’d grown it out as King. She most likely would do the same to Crevan when he settled more.

“...She is in the healing rooms.” Crevan said. “She will be here shortly…”

Nuada sighed. “...You asked her to look after Ciri.”

“After a fashion, my past self cannot…” He said.

Nuada decided to try to broach the subject they’d been dancing around for the last two days.

“Metatmore…” Nuada said. “As I am yours...”

Crevan turned at that word and Nuada’s statement.

“It refers to the connection between them, us...Lover’s lover,” Nuada said. “Just because I have trouble with the concept of how...the three...four...of us...go together, does not mean I am ignorant of it.”

“You’ve had time, I have not,” Crevan said. “Aethen was here long before me…”

“But never her lover,” Nuada said. “But he does have a bond to her…”

Crevan let out a breath, at least they were on some kind of track. Nuada realized this too, but a lot more would have to be said, and not just between the two of them.

*  
 _In the healing rooms…_

Ciri managed to convince the healers to bring her to Avallac’h. The sage was in a deep healing sleep. She watched him, his fingers lay relaxed in sleep, but looking close the dark circles under his eyes, the complexion of his skin seemed off. Something was not right about it, she had not noticed this before, then again they’d had no more than an hour or two before they had to rest before.

“...He is sick, has been for some time.”

She spun to see Pen in the doorway.

“...The Aen Elle became very gaunt and the dark circles around the eyes are not Kole. Most Healers would have locked him into Reverie, we opted for a lighter sleep.”

Pen brought in a tray with two mugs, a covered pot and a steaming kettle upon it. She set the tray on the table and began pouring a steaming liquid into both mugs.

“...He doesn’t eat much...”

Pen smiled, she knew that was true. Even after a few months, Crevan was still a stone or two underweight for a healthy male of his kind.

“That explains a bit. I’ve never known a scholar, scribe or healer to eat a decent meal regularly…” Pen said. “I included…” She mixed honey into the mug she’d brought. “A healthy male elf should weigh 10-13 stone depending on muscle...He weighs about seven. He needs about three more stone for starters...”

“You said sick…” Ciri said, sounding worried.

Pen mixed a bit of honey into the other and brought it to Ciri. She studied him, and then her. She added a bit more honey.

“...Yes. Very little can make them so...but there are rare conditions. I have dealt with one such first hand.” She said. “Drink, I’ve sweetened it so it won’t taste like the stable boy’s boots but it will ease the headache you have...”

The woman must be a knowing one, she had not mentioned the tension headache she was getting. The brew tasted astringent even with the honey.

“Thank you...” Ciri said.

“You are very much welcome...Zireael.”

Ciri turned, she had not given her name. The woman must be a sage to know that name.

“How do you know that name...”

“It is easy enough. The blade you carry, your...mentor.” Pen said. “Your tale is a legend among my people...” She smiled. “You are weary enough to forget that you can travel time as well.”

Ciri was slowly coming to realize that this woman knew her all too well.

“...This place is.”

“...A far future, but not as far as you will travel.” Pen said. “The hunt cannot travel here without a price...for what pursues you does not exist here...Defeated long ago.”

Joy spread across Ciri’s face.

“So we can rest, we don’t have to run...”

Pen could see the relief in Ciri’s face, a chance to rest without having to fear. This respite would do them both good.

“Yes, and it will strengthen your resolve to battle the White cold…” Pen said. “Our Sage said I should not tell you more than that, and I will abide that advice.”

“You hesitated when you said, mentor…”

Pen paused, Crevan had asked her to be told to be gentle with his heart. She could see Ciri had no idea her mentor had branded himself a trader to aide her.

“...I will only say be gentle with the gift when it is offered.” Pen said. “I’ll come back in a while with food...”

Ciri nodded, having been given enough to ruminate on.

Outside the healing room door, Pen slumped against the wall, it had been hard to abide by the instructions in the Diary. She wanted to tell Ciri of other things, of what she would do, of the love that would endure long after she was ash. Doing that would have rippled outward, and changed too much. She hurried down the corridor, there were things she had to take care of before she met with Nuada and Crevan in her study.


	27. To talk and a bit of play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some talking, and A little love play...one Crevan is not sure he likes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: Crevan is portrayed in the story a bit under lore hight....due to the curse he endured as Uma...he's about 6'2 when in lore he'd be closer to seven feet.  
> The two welsh phrases mean "My silver fox" and "One's fill" (in the context of Enough)respectively.

_Pen’s study…_

Pen entered wearily, looking at the two males who waited for her. She could see it still, the soul Rot, upon Crevan, though he’d filled out in the months he’d been her lover. Nuada was standing with his hands behind his back. That posture said they’d done a little ironing out of their positions in her life, without their fists it seemed. Crevan had his answer for her, it did not surprise her.

“...My answer is no, I said Vafail when I interred her urn in the Graveyard…” He said. “It would only cause more pain.

She remembered him standing in front of the Lady Sarah roses, only days awakened from healing sleep. She had not known he would become more than a charge to her. She looked toward the desk where the tome that had the tread he wanted lay. The choice with what to do with it was his. She would only give him a name.

“I would not do that to you, fy llwynog arian…” She said. “And that male died a long time ago, buried with Ciri.”

A weary smile crossed his lips, then looked to see the expression on Nuada’s face. As stated, neither was inclined to share but a major conversation would need to be had soon.

“In my earlier researched, dug into the Deeper Archives, I found a letter from one of the Royal houses, announcing a birth, a son. But nothing from the house after, no name, no more record.”

“So they are lying,” Crevan said. “There is nothing…”

Pen knew the house of the Gull was hiding much more than itself, and to the fact that its head most likely was still alive and still salty over a few things. She let a smile play on her lips as she went over to her desk, remembering what Crevan had said of his son. She had a feeling any child of his and Lara’s would be twice as stubborn.

“The evidence is thin, but no. The Tuatha Dea Danu announced a son shortly after. The child was hidden...a lie to protect. I could not find if the Lie was set by Lara, another of the Aen Elle, The Magi or all three...”

“It would explain why each blamed the other…” Nuada said. “Using the deaths to justify hatred."

Crevan sighed. “I thank you Heart song…”

“Do you wish me to look further?”

She watched him think over her offer, still trying to process that Lara, perfect in his memory had lied. A necessary one to avert disaster, but a lie none the less. The answer surprised her a bit.

“No, enough pain was caused…” He said. “I do not wish to cause any more.”

Pen opened a drawer and pulled out a Tome. She knew letting him know might complicate their relationship, considering the thread of Elder blood she carried came from that House. Though in Human terms he was no longer related, and in those of Fey and Sidhe a distant relation.

“...Before you decide that...” she said softly. “This was compiled by my predecessor in the guild. Lord Lochain, It is his linage...and mine. There is a name I think you should read. Just because one says there is no record, does not mean there isn’t one...I did not connect it until I went digging....”

She handed the Sage the tome. He took it with now very twitching fingers.

“Return it when you are done...” She said. “...and I will speak no more of pain.”

Crevan left, holding on to the tome close as he departed.

Nuada waited until he was gone to speak again, knowing she’d given as much as she could without complicating matters further.

“What did you really find...” Nuada asked. “I know when you are editing the truth, like a good Singer…”

“...I found a name.” She said. “that much I could tell him. Lora wanted the child hidden, so no one could use him as a weapon, or a pawn...I will respect that. It was a thread of fate she returned and fell for a human...” She smiled “and Ciri’s child will ensure the Aen Sidhe can live in peace...for a little while…”

“Several thousand years and they forgot we lived among them...” Nuada said. “The Aen Elle did us no favors in their departure...nor in their return.”

“Not all of us forgot...” Pen corrected. “You simply became legends and stories...memories of why the dark should be feared. It was Lochain, and the remaining Aen Saevherne that made sure all the monsters remained in the dark...and humans forgot its dangers.”

“Are you saying.…”

“No, Broom was a Seer, of a sort, though a somewhat “blind” one...” She said. “The BPRD was made to make sure the monsters staid in the dark...it fell into the wrong hands, and not the first to do so…”

Nuada sighed, they talked of this often than not, specifically since the forming of the Court of Thorns. He was not passive in the defense of his people, but a not a monster because of it.

“What are we going to do with our guests...until they are ready to depart...” He said. “We can’t let the swallow wander around...a danger to her…and many others.”

“I could take lady Ciri to the Orb Weaver...could use a clean out.”

“And have her behead trolls, no...humans still wreak enough havoc I do not need a Witcher to make it worse…”

Pen smiled. “Yes, if she is like her adoptive father...swing first ask later…”

“More like he used his third...worse than a Bard.”

She laughed. “Yes, it seemed he was well-known for that...but the Lady Yennifer was his true love...spat as much as they loved…”

Nuada smiled and leaned to kiss her, they would have a little time before he needed to return to the castle.

It was a bit later, That Nuada decided to talk to Pen about their relationship and the forming one to Crevan before he left.

“...We woke in the same bed this morning.” He said, his ear tips darkening. “curled like a pair of spoons. I went to bed alone after trying to get you to come home.”

“I did not know you liked males too.” She teased. “If I had I would have invited Aethen to join us that first night…”

He made a derogatory sound.

“Do not tease, wench.” He said. “I wish to talk of this seriously.”

She nodded. “Is it the affection you feel or the fact that it happened so easily?”

“That is the thing, It is strange to me. I did not feel this way when you bonded to Aethen, nor in your flirting with him.” He said. “...I get jealous that you leave me out when it comes to Crevan. I know the fox makes you happy, fills places I cannot, just as Aethen does.”

“It is just as strange to me.” She said. “I didn’t expect to have another bond, nor how fast I fell.” She sighed. “...I care for you both, and yes there are things each of you fill the other cannot. I want this to work, and that is what it will be, work.” she smiled. “We are taking the first steps, we will need to talk together too…”

“As is proper,” Nuada said. “...you should try a bit of love play with him, Something we could both share with you.”

She smiled, He was encouraging her to explore despite how uncomfortable it was making him. She knew the bond was drawing he and Crevan together too, though physically neither liked their own gender. Intimacy did not always come from sex nor required it. The fact that they had unknowingly sought each other in her absence said a lot, though how it manifested brought her a bit of amusement.

“And if it does not suit his taste?”

He got one of his bone-melting smiles on his face.

“Then that facet is all mine.” He said. “...I need to go before they send the Raven guard to retrieve me, Tam Lin gets cranky if he has to come to find me…”

She smiled and kissed him one last time before he left her study.

_In the library…_

Pen found Crevan later in the day sitting at a library table with the tome before him. She’d given him it for him to decide, let the lie stand or seek the real reason Lara would have hidden his child.

“I know its not an easy choice.” She said. “It wasn’t when I found it.”

He smiled when she sat down beside him. He had sat for a long time, sorting through how he felt of it. The Female involved was long dead, dust now in her tomb. He re-read the letter before coming to sit there, written by Son who he’d never met and probably be confrontational when he did.

“I’ve been sitting here, haven’t even opened it yet.” He said. “I do not know how to feel of this, not just Lara’s decision. I...” He rose to pull her up to him, realizing she came to the same place as she did on Nuada. “...can’t keep wanting.”

She reached up, tracing his cheek with her thumb. She stood there for a few moments, watching the slight tick come and go. She traced one of his lips. She looked into his eyes before kissing him.

“...I want to sleep in your bed tonight, just sleep...” She said.

He wanted to deny her, say no to her request. She would let him if he wished. He would give her that request but perhaps not right away.

“I cannot promise sleep...” He said. “...but I can promise you my oath again.”

She smiled slightly, putting her arms around him. He knew he had some of his heart left, for he had rapidly lost it to his queen.

_Nuada’s workroom, later that evening…_

Nuada sat with the sketch of the apple tree brooch, he’d finished the one Crevan wore to Court. He thought it would be a good idea to make another, that brooch had gotten into the Sage’s hands somehow. He gave a snort at the irony he was making it for the male who shared his queen’s bed. He could shape, pound, stretch and flatten all the while venting his anger upon the metal rather than flesh. He didn’t hate Crevan, far from it, but he was realizing the repercussions of his choice to encourage Pen and the negotiations that were going to happen before they settled into comfortable co-existence.

“...Looking for something to pound?” Aethen said, bringing the ingots Nuada had requested.

“I would that I had the one blow already...” He said. “...I have said I tolerate it. I do not...not fully.”

Aethen remembered the minor scuffle before the rescue and the major one that had happened while she was away. Both seemed to hold no grudge but had been kind of thorny toward each other since, and even more so after being found together. The rumors of that had yet to go beyond the household, but it was only a matter of time before the court got wind of them.

“Crevan is just as prickly about it I imagine,” Aethen said. “She has threads of elder blood, and once upon a time he was obsessed with it.”

“I shudder to think what he would have done with a pure strain...” Nuada said. “But I see what that obsession did, and is doing.”

“He won’t relinquish her and neither will you..” Aethen said. “...He has already bled for one of the Elder blood...he will do the same for her.”

Nuada knew that for a fact, he moved to inspect the ingots.

“Pure silver, and rose gold,” Aethen said. “...You are making the brooch…”

“Yes, it had to have come from somewhere...I knew it was my work.”

Aethen smiled. “...I also found watch gears...the tiny ones. I did not purchase them as there isn’t anything that needs them.”

“I will take that into consideration,” Nuada said. “I’ll be up late...tell Pen she may sleep where she wishes tonight.”

Aethen nodded, Nuada knew where Pen would be spending the night.

_The Manse…_

Crevan watched Pen come through the door, a simple nightgown brushing just above her calves. She knew he liked her in gowns rather than the tunic and trousers she usually wore to bed. He rose to greet her. She stood before him, the gown was not sheer but he could see the outline of her beneath it.

“...Sleep, remember.” She said, reminding him that was all she wanted.

“And I did not promise that...” He said and picked her up, bride style. “Nothing beneath, this will be tempting…”

“You ever say that to Ciri...” She teased.

“Many times...” He said, carrying her to the bed. “And now I will say it only to you…”

She smiled up at him as he lay her down, his body following. She shifted so he could settle comfortably against her.

“My fox...” She said.

He made a very male sound, reaching down to shove her gown up to her hips. Pressing his body against hers.

“...I am as my queen commands.” He said laying his head on her shoulder to nibble along her collar bone. “Anything my queen commands…”

Her hands reached down to work at the ties on his breeks. He raised up enough so she could push them down. She smiled, she was going to try a bit of love play.

“...On your back...” She said.

He rolled, she began kisses at his lips, hungry and battle of tongues. She kissed down his neck, pausing at the base to lay a lingering kiss upon where the lines met. She moved lower, to over his heart. His hand came to the back of her head, to encourage her to go lower. She would not rush this, she wanted to know how he would react. She reached his navel and licked around it, pulling another sound from him, a hitch of breath. She nipped just beneath, his breath hitching with each nibble-kiss lower. He kept trying to guide her lower, wanting her kiss where he ached. She would have to teach him a bit of patience.

“Let me take my time or I’ll have to do something about those hands of yours...” She said, looking up into his half-lidded Cerulean eyes. “And you may not like it...”

He smirked down at her, not thinking she’d carry out that threat. He continued and found out just how peculiar his queen’s tastes were. He let out a groan as She moved to go look for something, to put his hands out of the way, finding his belt. She sat on his chest, pushing his arms up. He watched her, allowing her to position him.

“...What pray is this.” He said as she fastened his wrists to the headboard. “Some ritual you did not inform me of…”

She checked to make sure it was secure but wouldn’t dig in too much. She wanted to restrain him just enough so he couldn’t; interfere with her explorations. He tugged at the restraint, frowning. She kissed his lips, drawing it into a battle of tongues.

“...My fox is being naughty...I gave an order to let me take my time.” She said. “Now you cannot touch me…”

He frowned at her, a tick twisting his lips slightly. She resumed her explorations, pulling those hitching breaths from him again, groans of impatience. He did not know if he liked this game she was playing.

“...My queen...Heart song…” He groaned with each nip and draw of teeth on his skin. “Please…”

His begging only caused her to focus upon a spot, delaying where he wanted her.

By the time she got to where he wanted her kiss, there were small bites on his stomach and thighs, nips of her teeth as they tasted flesh and muscle, taken her time to draw out those sweet sounds of ecstasy from him. The marks would fade, as she did not want him to dislike the game.

The final arch of his body as release came made the headboard and leather strain, pouring himself into her as she feasted. He was bow taught until the last, her hands rubbing over the straining muscle.

He came down from the euphoria to her releasing his wrists and setting the belt aside. He looked down where she’d bitten, then at her. She smiled, laying her head on his chest, her fingers brushing over the marks. He lay looking up at the ceiling, in a bit of shock.

“...Love play.” She told him. “is to be savored.” she shifted a bit. “And can be said no to at any time...choose a word…”

“llenwi rhywun” He said, half absently, still trying to process what had just happened to him.

She smirked, “Enough it is...my fox...”

He was still stunned, he’d never thought himself one for this. Her hand rubbed his wrist, there was a red mark from the leather. She brought his wrist to her lips to kiss it.

“...I’ll have to bring proper ones next time...” She said, frowning at the mark. “Your belt was too stiff and sharp...”

“Proper ones?” He said, looking at her. “You play this often?”

She smiled, “They won’t mar your wrists...and more comfortable.” She brushed over the marks, already fading. “as I said you can say no…and it will not displease me.”

He moved his arm to be around her. That had been an experience. One he was not sure he liked.

“They had girls in Dandelion's tavern...” He said. “Who liked to be tied up...I did not see the appeal.”

“Oh, my sweet vanilla fox...” She said, smiling down at him. “Even in play, such things can be delights.”

He made a sound, his lady was going to get what she wanted, sleep, after all. He closed his eyes and was soon drifting off with her laying against him.


	28. gifts and arrangements

Nuada plodded into the solar, yawning. He was surprised to see Pen was there enjoying breakfast. He thought she would have remained at the manse to have breakfast with the fox.

“...I will have to talk to the leatherworker.” She said.

He smirked, she must have shown the fox a bit of love play. He’d learned to listen when she made a request, even if it wasn’t stated outright.

“What order did he disobey?” He asked. “You would not have retrained him if he’d ‘obeyed’ You.”

“To let me take my time, too eager for my kiss on his cock.” She said between bites. “I only had his belt, too stiff for proper play.”

He remembered teaching her that little bit of play and that side of himself. They’d had fun off and on since, usually as a treat for both of them.

“I could make the bands, but I do not think Crevan has that ex-stream a taste in play.” He said. “What kind of leather…”

“Soft...lined. I do not think he would like the world to know that he gets a thrill from being restrained.”

He smirked, reminded that he hadn’t played with her like that in a while and had forgone their usual Yule tradition that year.

“...I think I owe my lady a night of surrender.”

She smiled at him. “Do you want that exclusive to you?”

She was offering to have that be one of the rules. Exclusivity with activities was an option. He had told her to go explore, to find out what delighted her with her fox.

“Ask me a bit later...after you see the leatherworker...” He said. “He should have his own, mine are too broken in.” He smirked. “I saw the shop had moose hide…”

She laughed. “...are you asking for a new set?”

He joined her in laughter if he wished a new set of leather cuffs he well had the coin to have them made.

“That will be up to my lady...” He said. “But I will accompany you, I need to get more brass and copper.”

“Making another Torc?” She asked.

“I don’t know yet...just want to have them on hand.” He said. “and I think a day in the freehold is what I need right now.”

She nodded, finishing breakfast so they could go.

_Two days later…_

Crevan was surprised when Pen came into the guild office with an ornate box. She set it before him. He noted the carvings were of vines, bramble, and flowers.

“A gift...” She said. “I had it made for you.”

He’d not expected her to give him gifts. Then he reminded himself that in the eyes of the courts he was her lover. It was expected he’d be given gifts.

“...Open it, no one will come in.”

Inside the box were cuffs of butter-soft leather lined with silk, padded as not to bruise. He was speechless until he remembered she had said he could say no without repercussions.

“My lady…” He said. “I...this is a costly gift.”

She had selected the materials herself, having played enough to know the difference between play and full-on bondage. She would have chosen stiffer leather if the restraint was to be more than light.

“They are yours...for when you wish to try our play from the other night again.”

He took one out, looking at the workmanship.

“...we have a leatherworker that does these things exclusively,” she said. “Here…”

She took the cuff from him and fastened it to his wrist, tugging on the ring on the side. She smiled wickedly as she took another out and fastened it to his other wrist, pulling both together then up above his head as she sat in his lap. Under any circumstances, he’d have found this arousing, but his eye was on the stack of papers he had to get through.

“...I have work.” He said. “If you so kindly…”

She kissed him hard, he responded to the kiss with his own, promising her attention later.

“...leave you to it.” She slid off his lap. “Spoilsport…”

She removed the cuffs and replaced them in the box, though not angrily.

“...I will put these in your quarters,” she said as she exited.

He sighed, He needed to talk to Nuada again as the king had much more experience with their queen.

The request had been formal, the Lord of the Court of Thorns to the King. An indication that what Crevan wanted to talk of was serious. Nuada arranged for the meeting to be in the Royal solar. The sage was standing at the windows, his back to the door. It said a lot of what was going on in the Aen Saevherne’s head.

“...I take it she gave you the gift she purchased a few days ago.” Nuada said as he entered.

“Yes, and another facet to set between us.” He said. “I’ve looked at them every night since. I’ve not asked her to my bed nor have I been asked to hers since then as well.”

“...She’s not been to mine either.” Nuada said. “You’ve not angered her if that is what you’re worried about….”

Crevan turned, A tick twisted his lips. The tick was another sign of what was in his head.

“She’s most likely waiting for you to choose.” Nuada continued. “...She will not push it upon you if it is not to your taste.”

“...She bites.” Crevan said. “In most sensitive places...”

Nuada laughed, just the tone of Crevan’s voice said he had not expected that.

“She likes to nibble. If she bit you’d know it and feel it still.” He sat at the table. “Sit down.”

Crevan sat, taking a breath.

“We need to discuss further where the lines begin and end,” Crevan said. “I am not sure I would delight in that form of play.”

“When at the freehold, she is yours and you hers,” Nuada said. “...for the moment, I do not wish to know beyond that.” He smiled. “I taught her, and she takes it seriously down to consent and clear words of what you desire...and as I assume she said you can say no.”

“Then she is yours at court...as it has been.” Crevan said softly. “nothing will change…”

Nuada sighed, things would change. He knew the other male had not asked clearly, and thus Pen had avoided his bed as well as the Royal one to prevent either of them from being jealous.

“No, not as it has been...I propose a game for the time being. We purchase undergarments for her, many colors, fabrics and it is her choice which to wear...we must guess. Forfeit is well...we will iron that out. If we both fail, well we sleep alone.”

“...Agreed.” Crevan said. “as for the other?”

“Ask her, clearly...You might like a few of the aspects that go with the restraints, beyond play...that will be between the two of you.” He let himself smile. “...You’ve already experienced her favorite morning game…”

“That was play?” Crevan said surprised.

Nuada smirked. At least this was a start.

_Ciri’s quarters…_

Ciri watched the portage drip off the spoon held in her bandaged hand. She was getting bored, she had asked several times to be released from the room, only to be told that she was being restricted for her own safety and that of her mentor.

“Please, I want out of this room…” Ciri pleaded. “At least let Avallac’d be awake so I have someone to talk to...”

The healer frowned, “I will have to consult with Lady Thorn...”

She had slammed her hand against the table with bruising force out of frustration, the healer's frown deepened as they treated the injuries, binding her hand before leaving her.

_Pen’s office…_

Pen looked at the healer standing before her. He was asking to bring Avallac’h out of the healing sleep.

“Lady Ciri is becoming agitated.” He said. “...and we do not have guards to spare to take the lady out into the gardens…”

She frowned. She knew from the archive that Ciri had not set well to being still.

“As long as he doesn’t keel over sitting up…”

“...That can be arranged.” The healer said. “...I would like you to come and get a sense of what activities we could arrange for lady Ciri.”

She sighed. “I will bring dinner...Stew tonight.”

The healer nodded, turning back to the healing rooms.

_Later that evening..._

Pen brought a tray to the healing rooms, voices told her the healers had taken her suggestion and let Avallac’h be awake. It was a good sign. A bit of food would do them both good. She knocked before she turned the knob and entered the room. The healer was changing the bandages. They finished quickly, letting her set up the meal. She could see the sage was already weary as he was watching her.

“...Both of you need to eat...” Pen said.

Unlike breakfast this was stew, smelling rich of roast and herbs.

“...And Sage, no complaints…”

Ciri was surprised that she cut off a protest before he could utter it. Pen had spent much of the day with the council's demands and then the merchants had come with their fears the current situation would affect trade.

“...I have dealt with protests enough today...” She said. “I will not take them from an injured male.”

Ciri could almost hear Yennifer say the same to Geralt. She noticed Pen’s clothes had changed, more practical for work than what she had been wearing, the only things that remained was the brooch, it now secured a plaid sash of black, garnet red, and bone white.

“I must thank your healers, Lady Thorn…” Avallac’h said.

Pen smiled. “They are most skilled, needle bodkins are nasty things…”

Ciri noticed the brooch and asked of it. The tree of life with a spear at its heart and musical notes in the branches. Pen heard the childlike curiosity in the question, reminded again that Ciri was still in her Mid teens despite how the stories painted her.

“...My house and my Husband’s.” She said. “He is of the High court, I am a freeholder, by the King’s leave...” She placed a bowl in Ciri's hands before giving the same to Avallac’h. “...It is boar…”

“...Boar stew, I have not had this since Skellig...” Ciri said. “It was always a treat when I went as a child…”

“I knew you would like it. It is a treat here as well. If the weather is good, I can arrange for the two of you to go into the garden...or at least the conservatory.”

“You have a glass garden?” Ciri sounded excited.

She smiled, for one such as Ciri something like the conservatory was something only Royalty had. For the manse, it served a double purpose.

“Yes, its how we grow herbs over the winter, and a few rare plants year-round.” Pen said, dishing up a bowl for herself.

The spoon was halfway to Pen’s lips when there was a rapid knock and the door burst open to reveal two children of indistinguishable gender that ran at her.

“Atara, Atara...” They said in unison.

Pen managed to place the bowl down before it spilled. It was clear she was used to interruptions like this.

“Deir, Nod...” She said in a warning tone.

Both stopped mid-stride. They knew they did something wrong. Ciri almost felt sorry for the two as Pen got up.

“What did I tell you of the healing rooms...” Pen said, her tone stern but not upset.

“Quiet, no running...” the one on the left said.

"Yes, and what did you just do wrong?"

“Loud, running...” said the one on the right.

“Yes...” She said. “Now tell me what was so important that you broke those rules…”

“Atar says you will read us a story…”

“I did promise before now, go to the library and ask Regis for a book and come back here properly I will read you a story…”

Both departed, slowly this time. Pen followed to close the door.

“Deirdre and Nodens...my youngest..." Pen said. “My elder two are at high court with their sire…”

“You have a library...” Avallac'h asked.

“Yes, and an archive but that is mostly for the guild.” Pen said. “It will take them a bit, Regis is a bit of ham, especially when Nod wants to fight him...Slay the Dragon is his favorite game…”

She returned to her bowl and took a seat next to Ciri.

A little while later, the two children returned, one holding a tome, dressed in their nightclothes. One had a doll that looked like a certain half-blind elf. They came forward quietly, Regis must have scolded them as well when they asked for the tome.

“Let us see...I think I know the one to tell tonight...” Pen said, reading the cover. “Cu Cullen…”

Pen began reading, in Gaelic, stopping only when one or the other asked a question.

It was a little while later the nursery maid came to take away the two children and bring her news that Tam had come home. She brightened, it meant Dain Cecht was also home. She excused herself, she wanted to give her elder sons a warm greeting.

_In Pen’s study…_

Tam and Dain set themselves down to the table, bowls of warm stew appeared along with their mother. It turned out Nuada had sent them “home” as Dain was suffering headaches and had a constant stutter as of late.

“...So we have guests.” Dain said, taking breaths to still the stutter.

“Yes, the healers let Avallac’h be awake for a while.” Pen said. “and I think an outing would do Lady Ciri good.”

“The gardens are a good idea. It would also explain why Crevan asked to walk in them after he woke up.”

Pen nodded “...I also mentioned the conservatory, I think Lady Ciri would like to see it.”

“We should wait a few days, the guards will need to do a thorough sweep...” Tam said. “There will be trouble if we don’t…”

Pen nodded, she would leave the minor arrangements to her sons.


	29. hidden poisons

_Two days later…. ___

____

Crevan turned over in bed, remembering that it had been several days since he’d talked to Nuada, and even more since he’d asked Pen to sleep with him. He levered himself up, an ache in his back. He remembered where that particular set of scars had come from. He stretched, groaning. He’d been informed the elder children had returned, so it would stand Pen would want to spend time with them. He opened the connecting door to Pen’s room, she was up and gone already. He turned back to his own rooms, breakfast waited upon the hearth table.

__

__

Pen was in the office, looking over petitions to add to the freehold. Crevan was a bit surprised. She stood up so he could sit, waiting until he did to take the less comfortable chair.

__

“...Tam and Dain are home.” She said. “Dain will be taking our guests to the gardens…”

__

He thought of the young Lord DeRosin, strange eyes hidden by smoked lenses, tongue as sharp as a dagger.

__

“...He’s not insulted anyone else by suggesting they were birthed from a hamster has he?”

__

“No, Stress mostly.” She said. “He needed to come home, I need to have another pair of eyes upon your past self…”

__

“...I remember.” He said.

__

She watched him wince, something must have reminded him of it this morning.

__

“...Just stiff.” He said. “...There are no kind reminders of age…”

__

“I have a few liniments, they should help...come to the bathing rooms after lunch. A hot soak will help as well.”

__

He smiled, it was the first thing she’d offered to do to him in over a week.

__

“I will be there, my lady.”

__

She rose and kissed the corner of his mouth as it twitched before heading out.

__

__

_A short time later..., ___

_____ _

Dain was sitting in his mother’s study, lenses off and rubbing his temples. He heard the cup being set down. He looked up to see his mother in near clarity though the halo around her made him close his eyes again.

_____ _

“...Drink. Its the strong stuff.” She said. “I know you have a headache...”

_____ _

He managed to take a few sips, the ache eased enough to think. He was still getting used to the idea there would another male significant as his sire in his mother’s life.

_____ _

“...Atar worked something out with the sage.” He asked. “I saw him at dinner last night, he seemed content.”

_____ _

She made no secret that Crevan was her lover now, despite many looking on her choice as a betrayal of her king and husband.

_____ _

“Yes, though they have not told me details.” She said. “How do you feel of it?”

_____ _

Dain smiled at his mother since he was the head of House DeRosin and would have to accept Crevan as part of the household his blessing was necessary.

_____ _

“He makes you happy, the same way Atar does...I never thought I’d see it.”

_____ _

“I did not either.”

_____ _

He knew she needed his answers as head of house DeRosin, not her son. He put on his lenses and took a few more sips of the astringent brew.

_____ _

“...I see the rot halted, even reversed a bit.” He said. “Our guests may complicate things. He struggles, echos wash over him...he may ask for a respite.”

_____ _

He took off his lenses abruptly, He’d seen something that disturbed him.

_____ _

“Dain…”

_____ _

“...I need to go take our guests out to the gardens, take a look...” He said and downed the rest of the mug. “...I will give them a bit of time, then lunch…”

_____ _

He put on his lenses again, looking at his mother.

_____ _

“Do we have the antidote to Scribe’s Bane?”

_____ _

“Easily made, is that what they used on the bodkins?” She said. “The healers did not tell me if they found anything.”

_____ _

“I do not know, I have to take a look at the wounds...” He rose. “I think I know why I’ve been having the headaches...I am needed here, at least for a little while...” He focused a moment. “...Yes, I’m needed here…”

_____ _

“I will start the brewing…”

_____ _

He nodded as he took up his cane before he pad-tapped out of the room.

_____ _

_____ _

_The healing rooms… ___

_______ _ _ _

Ciri aided Avallac’h into a tunic, the bandages changed again. Their escort to the gardens showed up, a young half-elf, eyes hidden behind smoked lenses and a tall cane in his hand. He was dressed in the nearly same as Pen when they had first met her. He wore the same plaid over his shoulder, though his brooch was roses twined with notes, most likely his personal device. He used the cane to navigate the room toward them.

_______ _ _ _

“You’re…” Ciri said, surprised

_______ _ _ _

The young half-elf gave them a smile, stopping a short distance from them.

_______ _ _ _

“Blind, yes...but not as one would expect, my eyes are strange and light makes them hurt. I have found it...better to behave like a blind male.” He said. “My name is Gideon, I am lady Thorn’s son and second among the healers...My Atara wanted a second set of senses to insure healing.”

_______ _ _ _

“...You will be showing us the gardens...”

_______ _ _ _

“Yes, the trails are well marked and the Glass garden as you asked…” Gideon said. “...maybe a little time for lunch among the trees in the center of the gardens...”

_______ _ _ _

The soft pad tap of the cane on the stone of the corridor seemed soothing, a quiet sound to focus on as they moved through the halls.

_______ _ _ _

“...I noticed something...”

_______ _ _ _

“My attire?” Gideon said. “We singers take much of it from the Aen Saevherne, to honor them.” He lead them onto the garden path, “The plaid is of the Court of Thorns...You will see it much upon those of the Manse and the immediate DeRosin family...”

_______ _ _ _

They were in a secluded spot when Gideon stopped for a moment. He tilted his head, listening to something far off. He frowned, then turned to them.

_______ _ _ _

“...I must leave you here for a time, I’m being called away...I will return as quickly as I can.”

_______ _ _ _

Gideon left them in the small hedge alcove, letting them enjoy the quiet.

_______ _ _ _

_______ _ _ _

Ciri got Avallac’h to sit, she’ been in a jumble since they had arrived. She had wanted to see him immediately. Now in the few days since she’d watched the healers. Her ankle felt better, the brace holding it enough to walk. Avallac’h was quiet as well…

_______ _ _ _

“A crown for your thoughts?” She said.

_______ _ _ _

“The Lady Thorn, she hides things..." He said. “we would do best to be wary of her...”

_______ _ _ _

Yes, leave it to him to plant those seeds. He was good at that.

_______ _ _ _

“...She has been kind.” Ciri said. “Said the Hunt would not find us for a while…”

_______ _ _ _

“And we only have her word…”

_______ _ _ _

“She said her husband was of the High Court…”

_______ _ _ _

“...Lies can be told...” He said.

_______ _ _ _

"And you would know so much about that...” She snapped. “You’ve told me near nothing but since Tir Na Lia…"

_______ _ _ _

“You are too valuable…”

_______ _ _ _

She gave him an icy green stare before rising and stomping off a short distance on the paths.

_______ _ _ _

_______ _ _ _

Avallac’ cursed himself, it always happened with her. He meant well, she had looked too much like Lara until the scar. He still drew her without it, but could not tell her. His emotions rolled between lust, hate and...he wanted to scream. He near did as He watched Ciri stomp by for the third time. He knew Ge’els could not have come up with a scenario like this, something else at play.

_______ _ _ _

Then there was the new complication, the dreams that had him waking in the night. The female who had sung for him, the lady thorn, standing ground against a line of Riders, he among them. She had a crossbow, aiming for him. The bolt flew, knocking him from his horse to hit the ground with the bolt stuck in his side. The next he knew she was beside him, taking off his armor, it was when the wound began to be treated that he woke up. He would wake to Ciri at his side.

_______ _ _ _

“I am a fool…” He said to himself. “a bloody fool…”

_______ _ _ _

He hung his head in his hands as he sat there while Ciri calmed down.

_______ _ _ _

_______ _ _ _

Ciri came back to sit beside him in cool silence. He glanced at her, she was beautiful. He knew she feared to take a male lover. He wanted to take her in his arms, stake the rolling emotions. He reached and took her hand. Her first reaction was to pull away, he let her.

_______ _ _ _

“I apologize...We have been to too many places...too dangerous”

_______ _ _ _

She was slightly shocked, had he just apologized.

_______ _ _ _

“I can admit when I am wrong...” He confessed. “but it will not be often…”

_______ _ _ _

Now there was the man she was used to, too proud to bend. They had sat in a comfortable silence until Gideon returned with a basket. He bade them follow.

_______ _ _ _

_______ _ _ _

The trees were in bloom, a bit out of season but then again they were not normal trees. He thought this a better place than the small hedge alcove. He was observing them, listening to the way Avallac'h breathed and the small sounds that indicated pain. He had treated enough of the court to know when an elf was not healing properly…

_______ _ _ _

“...I will have my Atara look at your wounds again...” Gideon said. “One is not healing properly…”

_______ _ _ _

Avallac’h noticed the sharp intake of breath from Ciri, there and gone. It indicated she cared, and maybe more. He did not wish to press her, more often than not got him an earful.

_______ _ _ _

“It does not hurt...” He said.

_______ _ _ _

Gideon pulled out bandages from the basket as well and containers of food.

_______ _ _ _

“I want a look at it too…” He said. “And I’ve treated enough of the nobles to know when you’re bullshitting me...”

_______ _ _ _

He obliged the healer if something happened to him...he would not let her face the hunt alone. He could not let Eriden get his hands upon her, loose the elder Blood.

_______ _ _ _

“...Damn,” Gideon swore, one of the wounds was broken open and angry red lines radiated from the blackened hole in the epicenter. “...We will need deride it...back at the manor…”

_______ _ _ _

Avallac'h suddenly did not feel good, The prodding of the wound brought nausea, perhaps the healers had brought him up too soon. He managed to crawl a short distance and purge his meager breakfast into the flower bed. Ciri was at his side in a blink, as he began to shake...His last thoughts before blacking out were of the expression of worry on her face.

_______ _ _ _

_______ _ _ _

Pen frowned as the healers returned from the gardens, Avallac’h had indeed been poisoned, as was feared. The still room smelled of strong herbs and high-proof Spirits. She frowned, the brew would not be pleasant, it's purging harsh. She looked at the healer mixing the distillate that was going to be used.

_______ _ _ _

“...Scribes Bane.” The healer said. “The only thing that can kill an Aen Saevherne or at least cripple them. It's like inserting an EMP into their blood and setting it off…”

_______ _ _ _

That did not sound pleasant, and no doubt why the healer’s efforts had been so long.

_______ _ _ _

“We should have it done in a few hours, had most of the distillates ready.”

_______ _ _ _

She nodded, she would return then to collect the antidote.

_______ _ _ _

_______ _ _ _

Ciri sat beside Avallac’h’s bed, the second examination of one of the wounds said poison. One specific for crippling or killing a Sage. It had gone undetected as its nature. They had put him under again, cleaned the wounds and bound them. The Hunt knew who aided her in escaping after Aubron’s death. How could they not?

_______ _ _ _

“I keep forgetting who leads what hunts you.” Pen said “I should have suspected...I am sorry…”

_______ _ _ _

“You could not have known...” Ciri said, not really focused “I should have seen…”

_______ _ _ _

“You would not have noticed the subtle signs, it was why I wanted another set of senses...I was right to do that.”

_______ _ _ _

“Is there a cure?”

_______ _ _ _

“Yes, it's being brewed now…”

_______ _ _ _

Pen put her hand on Ciri's shoulder.

_______ _ _ _

“...He cares of you more than you think...” She said.

_______ _ _ _

She watched a moment, before leaving the swallow to her vigil over the Fox.

_______ _ _ _

_______ _ _ _

_A short time later… ___

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Pen did not expect Crevan to be waiting in her study. She had intended to share a bath and a rub down later in the evening. Something must have come in the time she’d been in the healing rooms. He looked like he’d been shaken y something. He was quick to tell her of what it was, as her expression said she feared he might be ill.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“I had some files to deliver...I was passing the Stillroom.” He said. “They’re brewing the antidote...I still remember that smell makes me nauseous…”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Purging that particular poison is not pleasant...Though I doubt The Trial of the Grasses was any more pleasant.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“No, it was not.” He said. “The price I paid to have my own form again.” His fingers twitched, he put one hand over the other to still them. “...I was seven kinds of a fool then.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Hindsight...” She went to a cabinet and pulled out a dark-colored bottle. “Dragon’s kiss: Mead, Cinnamon, ginger and Chile pepper...something from the student’s still."

_________ _ _ _ _ _

She pulled out two glasses and poured a measure in each. Crevan downed his and made a wheezing noise. Pen knocked hers back and winced.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“...I now wish you’d given me this foul brew rather than that one...” He said trying to ease the burning on his lips and tongue. “Not sweet…”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“...Needs more honey...” She said. “I’ll duly note that with the next brewing.” She set the cup down. “You didn’t come here just to have a drink, that is not like you.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

There was a hesitation, the tick at the side of his mouth twisted his lips hard.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“No, I read...I think it best the lie stand.” He said. “He had a life, children...far from my obsessions with his mother.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

He looked at her, her green eyes, so much like Ciri’s. He turned his head away.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“...I wanted to believe she had left me, so coldly. To hate the Mage...for stealing her. She came to see me, secretly, asked me...I could not listen. In the end, I did exactly what she asked me to do...Find her again, in Ciri.” He drew his gaze back to her. “Ciri was a near copy, but she was not Lara...I forgot that for a time.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

She knew something had prompted him to talk, and it wasn’t just the tome. She would ask for another “story” from him.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Tell me of after the frost’s defeat…”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

He paused, another story to distract him. He knew she would not ask for the “truth” unless it caused trouble.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“I found her shivering in the tower’s center, frost clinging to her hair. I took her to warmth, let her thaw her limbs...” He said. “Geralt was waiting by the fire. He went to Emhyr, told him she was dead. I thought it best to be scarce for a while as well, I traveled for a bit on my own…”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

He rubbed over the court ring he wore, a wedding band once rested there, no doubt buried with the Swallow.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“...I met her again while she was on the path, Dandelion's tavern...I was drunk off my arse. I had little else to do. I could not return to Tir Na Lia...I did not wish to deal with Ge’els.” He sighed. “...She stomped over, pulled me out off the bench, dunked me in the nearest horse-trough and poured me into bed, I woke up looking into the gap in her shirt…”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

She heard the Amusement and the horror of waking up in a position that could get one slapped or castrated. She knew he was editing what he was saying, not wanting to touch on such painful memories.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“I got a lecture...and a massive hangover...” He said. “She asked me to travel with her again, we traveled...” He closed his eyes, choosing what to say “We...bedded each other in a tavern in a remote nameless village in the blue mountains during a snow storm. We ended up with frost in a few places because the fire went out...” He took a breath. “We wintered there, then one spring day she was gone...a letter with two words...find me.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Did you...?” She asked, knowing he’d told her a bit of this before.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Yes, in Toussaint, at the Winery...” he said. “It was a clever way to get me to talk to them, ask for her hand... I did so after I was teleported into a moat...Yennifer was not one you crossed Sage or no when it came to Ciri...all the more when we had children…”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“You spent some time there...?” She prompted

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“...Yes, much to my dismay. Though I found a type of Solace when Geralt dragged me out into the rows of grapes. Both of us clueless as to their growing, We learned after the batch of vinegar…”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

She let him tell her, piecing together the “truth” from what he’d told her previously. She knew he was having trouble with their “guests” being in such close proximity. It also said there were unresolved issues with Ciri as well.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“It was quite prized if the records are correct...” Pen said.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

He smiled, “Yes...” He stood up. “...His Majesty informed me that there was to be a grand ball in a few days, and requests that his lady host and attend…”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Pen grumbled. “Guild or queen?”  
‘  
“I took it to mean guild, but three seamstresses’ arrived shortly after…”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Queen then...” She said. “Prodded and polished again…”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“I have come to know that tone means you will have a sharp tongue by the end of it.” He said, leaning in to kiss her. “...we will share a bath another time. I have a few things to arrange.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“I’ll not turn it upon you, your Aen Elle brethren I call no promises...” She said. “are you going to be ok…”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

He inclined his head and left for the guild office. She sighed, this would not be a pleasant time.

_________ _ _ _ _ _


	30. Aid me in forgetting...

_The healing rooms... ___

____

It was a few hours later that Ciri was surprised by Pen bringing in two large trays. One held a full meal, the other what looked like bottles of some murky liquid. She set both down on the table and motioned for Ciri to eat.

____

“I would have brought you into the kitchens to eat, but we will be having guests, they are insisting on inspecting the kitchens and bringing their own cooks. Like we do not know how to prepare Elven food...”

____

She set out the meal, Ciri noticed Pen’s tone said she was annoyed.

____

“Forgive me, I have never been one for the fancy trappings of nobility, in dress or manners...SO I avoid them whenever possible...dealing with them sharpens my tongue and temper…” She said. “We will be waking Avallac’h to administer the antidote…”

____

Ciri picked up one of the bottles, turning it this way and that as if she knew what was in them.

____

“...I know some of these.” Ciri said. “A base of White Gull?”

____

Pen smiled, some things would not have changed in the time between hers and the present.

____

“Close, Moonshine and grain spirit…” Pen said. “Best for tincturing…”

____

Ciri began eating, looking over the foods and the medicines Pen had brought. She decided to ask why, what reason why she was helping them.

____

“Why are you doing this…” Ciri asked. “Sheltering us, hiding us…”

____

Pen took in a breath. “I was asked to, and considering I am glad to…” She smiled. “Finish and I will wake your mentor, a little time awake before I give him the antidote will do good...”

____

Ciri watched as Pen stroked certain places on Avallac’h’s face, his brow, cheeks, temples. She had seen the healers use that pattern before, when they had put him under. Pen was being careful about the pattern, knowing Ciri was watching.

____

“Something to learn…” Pen said as Avallac’h’s eyes fluttered open. “An elf will drop into reverie with a certain pattern, the reverse wakes them...and it is a state they will not fight if gravely injured...”

____

Avallac’h groaned, he was not wanting to be awake. The pain of the poison burning under his skin and in muscle the only thing his mind could focus on. He turned to see Pen, his focus suddenly upon her.

____

“I’m going to set you upright so you can take the antidote...I do not want it going in your lungs…” She turned to Ciri. “Aid me, please...”

____

Pen instructed, Ciri followed. She brought back one of the bottles and gently put it to his lips. He swallowed, making protests at the bitter taste.

____

“I cannot sweeten these…” Pen said softly. “I’m sorry...”

____

Finishing her task, she reached under the bed with her foot and pulled out a basin. Avallac’h made a sound and Pen helped him lean over.

____

“I would turn away…” Pen said a moment before what looked like black goop hit the basin. “and Here we go...”

____

It was violent, painful and disgusting, but Pen kept giving him more, she had to, along with profuse apologies when Ciri sprinted from the room to be ill herself in the privy across the hall.

____

____

When Ciri returned, a small army of servants had cleaned and the room smelled somewhat fresh. The evergreen and sweet wood in the fire helped. The half-eaten tray of food was gone, leaving a small bowl of broth and bread. Something she could stomach after what she’d witnessed. Avallac’h was sleeping again, cleaned up and fresh bandages in place. A cot was next to the hearth, with blankets for her to remain there. She managed a bit of the broth and bread before she crawled into the blankets and slept.

____

____

_The manse proper… ___

______ _ _

Pen sat in her study, staring into the candle flame, trying to clear the sights and smells from her mind. A mug appeared before her, set by elven fingers. She looked up, Crevan stood there. He looked like he couldn’t sleep as well, she did not blame him since the memory of the past few hours would not have been pleasant to him, even in the passing of time. She had promised him a semi-tryst earlier but with the discovery of the poison and healing, that had gone out the window quite quickly.

______ _ _

“...Some of that Fizzy ginger brew his majesty says you like…” He took a seat. “...You cannot sleep either.”

______ _ _

“No, such healing does not sit well with me...” She said. “Thinking on a bath…”

______ _ _

“Warm water and scent, a good idea.” He said. “Alone?”

______ _ _

He still wanted the bath she promised him, no doubt to put the healing out of his own mind.

______ _ _

She smiled, “Not if my lord is willing to share…”

______ _ _

He chuckled. “...Only for court functions...” he rubbed his thigh, easing the ache that was a reminder of time. “...I was on my way to see Regis, I want to gift a jug of his hooch to house Swallow…”

______ _ _

"Mandrake Moonshine...loosens tongues, bodice strings, and other things..." She said. “...you are a cruel male, the poor boy will have a hangover for days…”

______ _ _

He laughed A rich sound few ever heard out of him now. She heard what was left of his heart in that laugh. She knew most had gone to the Summer lands with Ciri and Lara. She watched him take in a breath.

______ _ _

“...It is nights like this that I miss her.” He said. “Yet do to her gifts, she is a few rooms away. I thought it best to avoid that part of the manse tonight. Too many memories of her fill my head.”

______ _ _

“You are not the male who saw the whole map of her destiny...not anymore…”

______ _ _

“True, now I am an old grumpy Sage who cannot even stand my own people...” A smile tugged at his lips. “A Crab apple indeed…”

______ _ _

Pen smiled, the Diary had said, that had been Ciri's favorite nickname for him, due to his grumpy nature. Even after the distance grew between them.

______ _ _

“...You are not just venting or running an errand tonight are you?”

______ _ _

“No, I miss my lady as well.” He said. “...I should finish my tale.” He leaned close. “...It was the name of the court that made me decide, a memory of realizing it was here that I felt something for another. It took us worlds, long years before we realized…” He rose. “I think I should see your bath...see you soon my lady.”

______ _ _

“Crevan...”

______ _ _

He didn’t turn around as he walked out the door.

______ _ _

“You are still a fool…” Pen said as she downed the rest of the mug. “...A wise one, but still a fool...”

______ _ _

She rose and shook her head, perhaps a bath would clear the stench of bodily fluids and vomit from her brain.

______ _ _

______ _ _

Crevan prepared the bath, taking care of the preparations. He wanted nothing more than her closeness. Too many memories of Ciri floated around in his head to focus upon Pen. He thought of the cuffs, wondering if that bit of play could free his head of Ciri for a short while. He would ask if not there was no harm in the asking. Some part of himself chastised the rest for wanting to forget, he shoved it down. He did not want to forget Ciri, he needed to in order to say the words his lady had wanted from him a short time ago and keep sane.

______ _ _

______ _ _

By the time Pen reached the baths, Crevan had created a bit of privacy for them. He was stripped down already. He waited for her to undress before soaping up, groaning when her hands moved over his back. He returned the favor, pausing to kiss her until he accidentally rubbed one of his soap covered fingers near her lips. She had made a face and laughed, running her hand down the center of his chest. That lead to a round of kisses and them trying to hold on to each other covered in soap. It ended in laughter, something they both needed.

______ _ _

“...I would ask something of you.” He said once they were soaking in the tub.

______ _ _

“Anything, my fox…”

______ _ _

He liked it when she called him that, as endearment rather than the contempt the unicorns had.

______ _ _

“The gift you gave me,” He said. “...can they purge memories.”

______ _ _

She looked up from laying her head on his shoulder. She needed clear consent from him.

______ _ _

“...You must ask clearly.” She said. “...straight forward.”

______ _ _

The tone of her voice changed like it had been that night. He realized she had given a command, but not a binding one...

______ _ _

“Will being restrained purge the memories of Ciri from me?”

______ _ _

She shifted leaning back slightly, looking to see if this was a request for her bed or a bit of play. She said a few words and the box she had given him appeared at the tub’s edge. She moved off his lap and rose from the tub. She offered her hand, he took it as she pulled him from the tub.

______ _ _

______ _ _

She picked up the box and led him into one of the massage rooms, healing didn’t always mean medicines. She directed him to wait while she laid down blankets and towels. She then instructed him to lay on his back. She rummaged a bit in a box in the corner and came up with a bit of crimson silk, She bound it over his eyes to block out his sight. She was gentle as she fastened the cuffs and fastened them to a ring in the floor.

______ _ _

She began to kiss down the center of his body, tasting his flesh still warm from the bath. Soft gasps escaped as she traced every line of his tattoo with her tongue. Unable to see, unable to touch her, Crevan could only feel the touch on his skin. Whispers in his ears, promises of pleasure. The slight nibble at the tip of one ear made his whole body shiver.

______ _ _

Something dripped on to his chest, warm and slick, smelling of meadow flowers. He felt hands, slick with the same substance move over his arms and down, kneading at the muscles sore with tension. The kiss on his lips was sweet, flavored with ginger still. Strong fingers on his shoulder, working the slickness into his skin. Then his chest, taking advantage of him unable to demand she go lower. The slight flick of her tongue over a nipple sent a shock through him, a gasp escaped. She seemed to like that sound, as she repeated her action several times over.

______ _ _

______ _ _

Pen was enjoying this, the feel of his muscles twitching under her hands as she rubbed the massage oil into them. She leaned up to whisper what she was going to do, how long she was going to savor him. That got a reaction a bit more dramatic than her tongue flick had, a flex of his hips. She continued to whisper, sliding her hand down slick skin. The warm flesh twitched with each whisper until it lay stiff beneath her palm. She reached for the oil, dripping it down. The warmth on sensitive flesh was enough to elicit a gasp with each drop, moving as not to concentrate the heat in one spot. She knew he would not beg her to stop, nor move away from the warmed oil. It coated his groin when she stopped. Her hands worked over his thighs, watching his body try to control the almost instinctual arch in the offering. He thought she would never stop until she accepted, then he started to pull against the restraints.

______ _ _

______ _ _

Crevan came down from the euphoria of release with Pen’s hands moving over his oiled skin. She was slowly working the remaining oil into his stomach muscles as they spasm-ed. He lay there breathing, just breathing. Her hand slid up his arm to twine her fingers with his, kissing his lips. He almost protested her removal of the blindfold but found the room near dark as it came off. She reached up to release him.

______ _ _

“No, finish...take your pleasure of me...” He whispered. “Please...”

______ _ _

The slid of her body over his, kisses hard upon his lips. Her hands went up his arms to grip his own.

______ _ _

______ _ _

It was sometime later they were outside his chambers. He unlocked the door, pushed it open and picked Pen up bride style and carried her across. He used his foot to close the door as he carried her to bed, laid her down and removed his clothing again before returning to remove hers.

______ _ _

“...Crevan.” She said softly. “My silver fox…”

______ _ _

He moved the covers of the bed so they both could lay beneath. He slid over her, looking down at her. She made what was left of his heart sing. He didn’t know what had changed her from a need to this. He could say the words now, what she was, what his soul had called her so long in dreams.

______ _ _

“Cân FY nghalon...” He said “the song of my heart…”

______ _ _

She reached up to pull him down, stroking down his back to pull the covers up over them both. Sleep soon followed.

______ _ _

______ _ _

Breakfast came all too soon, soft murmurs rippled through the hall when Pen and Crevan came to the table hand in hand. Dain paused as they sat, watching his mother say something to him before he replied. He wondered what his Sire would say, he’d told him of the agreement made but it still squinked him out a bit. He wasn’t the only one as Tam looked like he wanted to snap the spoon in half.

______ _ _

“He has no right to take Atar’s place at the table...” Tam said in a low tone.

______ _ _

“He isn’t,” Dain said. “If Atar were here, he would relinquish it. And Atar will be here later in the day, to help with the preparations. It would be wise to work with the swallow...a new skill to distract her.”

______ _ _

Tam watched his brother focus on the inside of his lenses for a moment. The special black mirror showing him a thread of a possible future.

______ _ _

“...So that she may be stronger in her own destiny.”

______ _ _

He knew his brother was just as disturbed by how fast the fox was integrating himself into the court.

______ _ _

“...What of the fox?”

______ _ _

Dain looked at him for a moment over the frames his almost jade green gaze blazed with power.

______ _ _

“...He will plant roots here.” Dain said, then shook his head. “...He already has.”

______ _ _

Tam frowned, he didn’t like the implication of his brother’s words.

______ _ _

“Not with Atara...” Dain said, knowing too well his elder brother’s protectiveness of their mother. “And not the fox beside her, but the apple tree…”

______ _ _

“Avallac’h...” Tam said. “He and Ciri?”

______ _ _

“Not yet...but soon, it is here they will return.” He rose. “I need to go prepare to welcome the High King, and guests most unwelcome…”

______ _ _

Tam quickly finished his breakfast, a sparing session was soon to start.

______ _ _

______ _ _

Ciri had asked if there was a place to train, she felt as if she was growing stiff sitting around and Avallac’h was insisting she do so during the few hours he was awake. The request was easy enough to grant and she was escorted to the manor’s Dojo to get a bit of exercise.

______ _ _

Much to her surprise, there were already several people there. One stood out, he was using sticks to fend off the four “attackers”. Many curses followed as he knocked them down with either a stick blow or one from his feet.

______ _ _

“...No fair, Tam…” One of them said, looking up from the ground. “You’ve trained with the guard...Captain...”

______ _ _

Tam was smirking, as he took them down again, this time with even more ease.

______ _ _

“All the better...The King’s Ravens are the best...Next to Thorns of course…” Tam said, then saw her. “Lady Ciri...”

______ _ _

All turned to see her, some excused themselves, leaving Tam and two others. He bowed to her.

______ _ _

“My name is Tam Lin...The eldest son of Lady Thorn…” Tam said. “You’ve met my younger brothers and sister already.”

______ _ _

“Have an obstetrical course?” She asked the Dojo was minimalist.

______ _ _

Tam smiled, of course, the lady of time and space would have asked so bluntly. A reminder that the elder blood was the same wither four hundred years or four thousand years out from the source.

______ _ _

“Yes, not to the equivalent for which you trained...but learning new skills is always an adventure…”

______ _ _

Ciri smiled, “Lead the way...”

______ _ _

Tam smiled, leading her to the slack-lines…

______ _ _

______ _ _

The slack lines required paying attention, not only to balance but to the other person on the line. After a few spills off the lowest line, Stubbornness took over. Tam watched with amusement, Slack-lining was a skill some of the singers excelled at as well as rafter walking. The Witcher was finding them a challenge, all the better. He watched over her as she trained, kind of like Geralt, though he instructed her like Vessimear.

______ _ _

Sore and hungry, Ciri finally conceded. She would have to find a way to put them up in Ker Morhen. Tam brought her lunch, rolls, cold meat and cheese. He was being generous, as Dain had said he should. He was also getting a glimpse of the stubbornness that had driven his brother to overcome the remains of the curse upon him.

______ _ _

“...I heard mention of the King’s Ravens…”

______ _ _

He paused in eating, curiosity was not unexpected. He’d read the legends too as a child.

______ _ _

“Yes, we wear Raven helms and do not speak…” Tam said. “I also trained with my Atara’s personal guard...The Bloody Thorns.”

______ _ _

“I noticed there are no armored guards…” She said. “If your mother is noble…”

______ _ _

Tam found amusement in that statement, his mother was hardly noble material. He would answer her questions since Dain had said they would be returning after their departure.

______ _ _

“The Court of Thorns needs few...It is mostly a place of sanctuary and learning. We are lucky enough not to be far from the Royal Seat...His majesty will provide guards if needed.” He smiled. “And almost everyone in the Freehold can defend themselves in some way...Including the Children. I’ve been hit harder in places by my little brothers than any grown man...”

______ _ _

The footsteps of two, dressed in the court Livery came. Both turned, Tam rose quickly.

______ _ _

“Tam Lin, Lady Ciri...the Lady Thorn has requested you come to her study, we will be having guests soon…”

______ _ _

Tam knew by the tone that the expected guests were a tad unwelcome. Only two types of guests were referred to in that tone. A delegation Aen Elle or an Astro with a stick up their ass. The guard's expression said it was a combination of both.

______ _ _

“Atara does not call one to her study lightly...and I think it best we go with all due haste. Having them discover you here...a lot of questions my Atara does not wish to answer…”

______ _ _

Ciri nodded, “Avallac’h?”

______ _ _

“He will be guarded, and I doubt they will wish to see the healing rooms,” Tam said. “Our Court Sage will ensure they do not wander…”

______ _ _

Ciri followed, Wondering if Avallac’h was right, Lady Thorn was not to be trusted.

______ _ _

______ _ _

Tam was not surprised to see his Sire there, already looking like he had a headache, with his mother. Pen gestured for them to sit. She would give instruction and they would listen. Ciri’s expression said she’d been hauled around like cargo much too often.

______ _ _

“I am including you, Lady Ciri, as I will not treat you like you are a fragile vessel or lesser in any way. I do not make the mistake of your mentors...” Pen said. “I only ask that you take my words as advice of one who knows…”

______ _ _

Ciri was surprised until now no one had considered her feelings on the matter of her safety. It was a bit refreshing.

______ _ _

“We are expecting a Delegation of Aen Elle, one of their Aen Saevherne decided to settle with us rather than in their granted lands and they desire to look down their noses at us...Sidhe and human included.” She continued, placing her hands on the desk. “I will ask that you stay in the healing rooms, or in the Archive halls, both are guarded and warded…”

______ _ _

“The two places that we doubt they will wish to visit...the sage will meet them directly,” Nuada spoke. “...Forgive me, I should introduce myself I am Nuada Aep Danu, member of his majesty's court and Lesion for their visit…”

______ _ _

Tam had to admit his sire was getting good ad being someone else when he was at the Court of Thorns. He must have been taking lessons from Jareth. Ciri listened, someone was treating her as an equal.

______ _ _

“You'll be assigning Aethen then?” Tam said, sliding into his role as captain of the Raven guard.

______ _ _

“He will be Guarding the healing rooms, Cullen will be in the library and Archive...”

______ _ _

“Then that will leave Rhi as your guard...” Tam said. “Are you sure she is ready…”

______ _ _

Rhiannon may have been Spymaster, but her Thorn training had been ongoing until recently.

______ _ _

“Yes, she received her mark a week ago...it will be a light-duty for her and it will show that there are not just males in my guard…”

______ _ _

Ciri was surprised, “...Women?”

______ _ _

Ciri hadn’t seen any women among the guards that had sat outside her door in the last few weeks. Pen wasn’t about to tell her that for a woman to take up the Thorn mark was rare.

______ _ _

“Rhiannon, is in service to the court, she chose to serve as a Bloody Thorn rather a lady in waiting...she completed her training a week ago and took the thorn’s mark.” Pen said. “Wither she stays or finds other pursuits is her choice, but taking the mark is not done lightly. I think she will stay.”

______ _ _

Nuada stood. “...They will be here soon, best to be proper and polished…”

______ _ _

Pen nodded, “Tam would you be so kind as to take Lady Ciri back to her mentor…”

______ _ _

Tam nodded. “I’ll see her settled in and arrange some of the high table food to be spared for her…”

______ _ _

Pen nodded, seeing them out...

______ _ _


	31. And things that go boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of talking, and a cliffhanger...

Pen was in a foul mood by the time she arrived at the ball, buffed and prodded into a Royal gown. Her temper simmering beneath as she sat stiff and serious at Nuada’s side. She watched Crevan avoid most of the delegation, no doubt no longer feeling like an Aen Elle and not wishing to deal with its Viceroy. She watched him disappear to the edges as dinner progressed.

The Aen Elle had ridden roughshod over almost all the servants and insulted most of the Court’s guests by the end of dinner. Nuada squeezed Pen’s hand, promising her an outlet to vent her mood after dinner. Dinner sat sour in her stomach, to say the least. She had a short temper by the end, wanting nothing more than to drive the iron cored dagger into the Viceroy’s lying heart.

Nuada decided they should go to the castle after the feast, some private time between them. He had said little when she formally bid Crevan goodnight before they had portholed into the Salle. He knew something had changed between her and Crevan, something they would need to talk over before they went forward.

“...Given my choice, I would have The Viceroy out on his ass…” Nuada said as they took out their frustrations about that night’s encounter with the Aen Elle delegation in a sparring session. “I like the Aen Elle less than you do…” He dodged her blade. “They insulted every envoy I introduced them to…even a few that they will find do not take insult well.”

“I agree they have upset the balance we worked so hard for…” Pen said, dodging the backswing of his lance. “Spark to tinder...”

The sound of wood to metal, her blades against the haft of the lance.

“The Viceroy asked of Crevan…. I said he was happy among us. I did not mention that he’s part of your court now.” Nuada said. “Your fox was least in sight for most of the dinner.”

“He did not wish to deal with Ge’els and I was not going to push him.” She blacked the blade. “I should expect…” She again blocked the leaf-shaped blade from picking the button on her tunic. “A delegation at the Court of Thorns?”

He blocked a thrust with the haft of the lance, shifting grip to spin it at her.

“Most likely...They do not believe one of their own can change...”

She slipped under his guard the point of her blade under his chin.

“Point…” She said.

“I concede…” He said. “You’ve gotten faster since the twins were born...”

“It was a necessity…” She said. “I should get back...The Court has a lot to prepare for…”

He shortened the lance and touched her face. He wanted to talk to her.

“Stay a little longer, I will have the navigator return you in the morning...I wish to talk of brighter things.”

“If you wish it of me...”

He smiled as he set aside his lance, he intended to make the rest of the evening was much more pleasant…

Nuada sighed in contentment as he pulled Pen into his side. He reached up just to be sure his skin was still intact. She had bitten harder than usual during their love-making as if she was trying to make sure of something. Polyamory was not uncommon among the Fey races, where sex was just sex and love was for humans. He knew it was one subject that they had danced around since Aethen’s bonding.

“...Missing your fox.” He semi teased.

She laid her head on his chest. “...Would you dump me out of bed if I said yes?”

He laughed softly. “No, since I have encouraged you.”

She traced the inked lined on his chest, this was just as hard for him as her since he had thought he’d dealt with a lot of his feelings years ago.

“...I do not know how to feel of the change between you and Crevan….nor deal with the jealousy I feel when you are with him. I wish to be included…”

“Physically, or emotionally?” She asked softly. “...I know other men are not to either of your tastes...”

That was the question, did he desire either type of intimacy with the sage or was it his own jealousy rearing its head.

“I do not know.” He said. “I do not find him...attractive.”

“Yet, you were found together...even if it was just in the same bed...twice.” She said softly, then saw his frown in the dim light. “I did not mean it that way…”

“I know beloved, and you did not blink an eye the first time…”

“I thought you were trying to get a rise out of me.” She said, “I pushed it off as such…”

“This is not easy since there are feelings involved if it were just sex…”

“It would not weigh so heavy...and it does weigh heavy.” She said. “...I do not know if I wish to think more one this sober…”

“Sober would be best…” He said. “All of us, we have not all gathered to talk...and we must before someone actually uses him to break us. I would not have your love end on such a sour note if you must choose…”

“A blade’s edge…”

“One I wish to dull.” He said. “But it is a subject that should be done in daylight, go to sleep little songbird…”

She snuggled close and tried to do just that.

Pen was not the only one returning to the Manse the next morning. It appeared Ge’els had come back to the royal seat the night before as well. She knew it was a tactic to get her and her court off guard. She’d tuck him into the library with Crevan, at least for a few hours. They were “friendly” to the most part and the sage could at least talk to him without wanting to take his heart out with a rusted fire iron.

Crevan welcomed Pen when she came through the temporary portal into the Manse’s grand hall. She welcomed him with a light kiss as he glared at Ge’els. Pen’s gentle touch on his arm told him to stand down. She leaned in, standing tiptoe to nip the tip of his ear. She saw Ge’ el's face darken.

“...Would you show the Viceroy the delights of our Library…” She asked, with false curtsy in her voice. “I have guests to attend to...”

Crevan looked at her for a moment, stiffened slightly at her nip and nodded. He knew she was making it clear he was hers.

“...This way…” Crevan said, pointing toward the corridor. “There are some amazing portraits along the way...”

Pen let out a sigh, she was going to look in on Ciri and Avallac’h.

Ciri woke to a gentle shake and the smell of breakfast. Pen had brought it along with a few pain killers and fresh bandaging.

“...I’ve arranged a bath for the two of you.” Pen said. “He’ll need a thorough one and it would not be a good idea for him to bathe alone...”

Ciri’s cheeks reddened slightly.

“...You’ve no doubt seen a naked man…” Pen said.

She knew that being in close quarters with the thieves she would have seen naked men and women.

“...Just not him…” Ciri mumbled under her breath as her cheeks went a shade redder.

Pen heard it and hid her smile. Ciri’s reaction said she did find Avallac’h attractive. Pen woke the Sage and got called seven kinds of names getting him into a sitting position.

“Afal Cranc…” Ciri murmured.

That got a glare from the Sage, saying she’d called him that before at some point after learning Elder speech. Pen made a note to ask Crevan when she’d first called him that, and perhaps even call him that on occasion.

~Crab apple, more like a sour one at the moment...~ Pen thought with some amusement.

“...Food and a bath...for both of you.” Pen said. “No arguments…”

She served them breakfast, making sure the sage ate. His body was burning up the calories to heal and she did not want him to put more strain on it than necessary.

Both were brought to a bath chamber, tubs of various kinds were set about the room. One of the Elvin style sunken ones was brimming with hot water, waiting for them. The air smelled of soap and various oils, Ciri inhaled and turned to look for a place to undressed.

Using a bit of the sharp edge of her tongue, Pen got Avallac’h undressed. Ciri went to undress behind a screen. Being a healer, there was little she hadn’t seen before. She had admired the Aen Saevherne tattoo when she’d been treating his wounds. She paused at the small gull hidden just to the left of his groin, no doubt something only Lara was to see. She moved to block his body as Ciri emerged. Despite being different from the knots and thorns that Nuada had chosen upon their formal marriage, it fascinated her in its meaning. It had been more so after the addition of the bramble and knot-work.

Ciri noticed Pen had hiked up her trousers and tied back her sleeves. She’d be helping. She also the twining bramble up Pen’s arms. She looked from Pen to Avallac’h. Their tattoos something she’d not expected. Avallac’h did not parade around naked in front of her and so had no idea of their extent. Pen took note of the rose on Ciri’s thigh, the sage did too and turned away. It appeared Ciri’s past lovers was a subject he did not wish to broach.

“...I could not explain it to you…” Avallac’h said, his cheeks and the tips of his ears darkening. “Shall we get this done with, I feel very much exposed...”

She got him sat into the tub and left him for a moment to get soap and then proceeded to scrub him raw.

It was after they had been scrubbed and polished, that Ciri had enough curiosity to ask about the Tattoo, but asked Pen and not Avallac’h. Pen obliged her to the basics, as the Sage would have not stopped blushing trying to explain. The Aen Saevherne tattoo was only part of it.

“...Royal Elvin marriages are marked in ink on the bodies of both parties. For the male, it shows how strong of a warrior he is, the more intricate the more courage…” She said. “For the female, they are a sign that she is loved, cared for and sometimes a warrior in her own right.”

“Even, um...lower…” Ciri asked, “Like mine...”

Pen laughed, she’d been blocking most of his body and she would not have seen the marks below his pecks. She thought of the small gull, just two quick lines hidden in the mark’s origin a gift for one’s beloved.

“...Yes, but the actual...gift is not...”

The blush Ciri had was amusing. Pen knew she was no virgin but to see her blush on the subject was a good sign, there were still things she did not know.

“The mark says he is very brave, a warrior as well as an Aen Saevherne...Some can include images only meant for the eyes of their intended. I should have remembered, and sent you into one of the curtained alcoves…” Pen said. “He would not have it displayed such before you...”

Pen would give her no more than that, it was something so easy to define and hard to explain. Pen rose and left her to her tea in peace.

Pen sighed as she made her way to the Library, a voice she had not heard before was singing. It was not harsh or off, just unused to the tune. The song sounded strange, sung like was being...translated. She came to a set of windows to see Crevan and Ge’els sitting at one of the tables, sheet music spilled across the table. Both turned to watch her come toward them.

Crevan paused in the song, grabbing the mug that sat at the edge to drink. She didn’t know he could sing, and well from the sound, she’d heard. She would have to hear more, but proper music for his voice.

“...None of these can be played on a proper instrument…” Ge’els hissed. “This is just noise...”

She looked at the music, no you could not pluck out Iron Maiden’s “The Wicker Man” out on a lute and have it sound the same as on a fender. She smirked at the thought of trying to sing it in Elder speech as Crevan had been attempting. She found some amusement in Ge’ el's expression, rock music was going to be a shock when properly played for him. She gathered up the sheets into a stack.

“Because it is not meant to be played softly...or courtly.” Pen said. “The folk music is near the display case with the Brooches...”

She took the stack and moved to get the music, it happened near too fast, the reflection in the glass the crash of the window. She dropped the stack in her arms and ran back to the two elves, hoping to reach them.

~Fuck, fuck, fuck~ She thought as she reacted.

“Get down…!”

She tackled the viceroy as a shield enveloped the three of them.


	32. Aftermath and dinner

The noise of the explosion rocked the whole of the Manse and gardens. It sent healers and guards running in the direction of the Library. Regis made it there first and began looking for any injured among the ruined wall and shelves. He stumbled on the three as the shield popped like a bubble.

Pen’s ears were still ringing when the shield dropped. Crevan was wiping away a trickle of blood from his nose from hitting the table on the way down, Ge’els lay still stunned. She stumbled to her feet among the shattered window and ruined shelving. Regis reached her as she saw the guards coming.

“...I will have heads…” She heard Ge’els hiss through the haze.

Regis was trying to get her to sit, so the healers could get a look at her.

“Get in line…” Came Aethen’s voice. “Lady Thorn...”

She tried to clear her head, her ears were still ringing and they must have been shouting for her to hear them.

“...Search the grounds...The bomber could not have gotten far.” She said, hurting from slamming to the ground. “See to the Viceroy and Crevan...I can wait...”

The healer wouldn’t take her protests and got her sitting to check her out. Other healers were dealing with a pair of elves, one who was demanding action. The other grunted when prodded, used now to the healer’s methods.

“...We’ve started questioning those closest to the building at the time…” Aethen said. “...They must have been following Crevan and the Viceroy as the library is very much open...line of sight.”

She nodded, “Pain tea, the nasty stuff...its the strongest...”

Aethen nodded and directed a healer to bring it. Crevan was soon plunked beside her, the Viceroy hustled off by his own healers and guards.

“...That was thoroughly unpleasant…” Crevan said. “What was that shield...I didn’t have time to cast...”

Pen tapped the brooch on her shoulder, the metal glowing but not hot or burning. She was grateful that she had thought to put it on earlier. Someone’s head was going to be on a pike by the end of the day.

“A gift from a very grateful King…” She said. “Myself and anyone within three feet, I’ll have to recharge it now...it blocks out shrapnel...but not sound...”

“...Himself made you that…” Aethen said. “I didn’t know the brooches had that enchantment...”

"Yes, and it has come in handy...only the Children’s and mine. Double the guard, pull from Raven’s ranks...I think a few will be glad of talking for a little while."

The healer returned with two small jugs, Pain tea, highly concentrated and tasted like hoof scrapings from a dirty stable. Pen popped the cork, said a few quick words and downed it, then swore.

“I need to go see our guests...to make sure this is not a feint.”

Cullen came over. “I’ll escort her...”

Aethen nodded. “We’ll figure out this mess...”

Pen opened the door, to Ciri’s gasp. The fool sage was in the middle of a lesson and the table, both stools, and a fire iron crashed to the ground with clangs, bangs, and thumps...Head still aching from the sound of the explosion Pen winced at each sound. Several things broke upon hitting the ground, leaving a stunned Ciri in the aftermath. She let out a sigh, glaring at them, her temper frayed.

“...Clean this up…” Was all she send and went back out.

At least they were safe and oblivious.

_A few hours later…_

Nuada had personally come with the small contingent of guards to reinforce the Court garrison. He found her among the debris of the library, sifting through the glass, leading, paper and wood looking for the shards of the bomb.

“...We have not found much, but it was meant to take out our guest…” She said. “Silver and iron...”

He embraced her for a few moments, he’d near lost her so many times. This time he wasn’t going to let her go anywhere alone. He looked for Crevan, he’d be talking to the sage about their lady’s safety.

“I brought more guards, and we are looking in the castle...”

“It’s all we can do for now...Repairs start tomorrow...” She said. “I thought about bringing our displaced guests to the dojo to teach them a bit of how to work in sync...they are not even...”

“How long did it take us...” He said, reminding it took them a good amount of time to find a rhythm with each other. “...Wither they shag here or in that village...”

The creek of wood interrupted them. It said someone was listening.

“...I would that you would refrain from commenting on my romantic actions...and I nearly lost some tender bits...” Crevan’s voice, from the other side of the shelf, returning with a few shards. “...We were lucky, it was just us in here and not the apprentices...”

Regis had closed off a portion of the library to entertain the Viceroy, having the students and Archivists in another section.

“They may have been counting on it...maximum damage...” Nuada said.

She smelled something strange, she took one of the shards from his hand and smelled it. It was something she feared, it was something from the manse.

“...I know this smell, bittering, I have it added to the grain spirit to prevent anyone from actually drinking it, the vessel at least came from the Storage room...as the last batch I had to use right away...to restore some of our supply of distillates.”

“Regis has them too, but he’s kept his Still locked down...and he can be very scary about returning the jugs.”

Regis getting scary about something was an understatement, even more so Dettlaff.

She frowned. “...I’ll have the storerooms inventoried...it will give the students something to do...”

Nuada and Crevan nodded, the best to get it over right away before the rumors started.

Ciri all but fled when the offer to stroll in the Court gardens was presented. She was frustrated with Avallac'h’s insistence on learning control. Her attention span had shortened with each try, each failure. The distance would help both clear their heads.

Avallac'h cursed himself, at this rate Tir Na Lia would be a glacier by the time Ciri mastered her powers. He looked up when Pen came in to prod him again, looking weary.

“...I see she took advantage of our healers showing her the conservatory...” She said.

“She has no control...power...willful...”

“What child does...?” Pen said. “She still is a child...despite her appearance.” She checked his wounds. “These look much better, the scaring will be minimal...”

“Good to know...”

She noticed he was not really listening.

“Where are you planting roods, apple tree...”

That shook him from his thoughts, quite abruptly. The look he gave her said she’d touched something in his memory.

“...Lara used to ask me that.”

Pen smiled, “...You still love her.”

She half expected the cliche “always” out of his mouth.

“I did, for a very long time...” He said. “And I would ask you not to pry further.”

“As you desire.” Pen said, “You can trust me, Avallac’h...You and Ciri as safe here...”

He looked her over, seeking a weak point or something else.

“...I think I should leave you now. Let you cool your head.”

Pen left, Leaving him to the brooding of his kind.

Crevan was waiting at the door to her study, there was news. He waited until they were inside to speak. Neither of them wanted anyone to know the real reason for the inventory.

“Four bottles, two still flasks and a hogshead of black powder…” He said “That is what is missing...I would not be so concerned about the flasks or bottles...The Black Powder...”

“That could mean another bomb...any outcome on the search of the grounds?”

He appeared very uncomfortable, it said one of the Special defenses had been triggered.

“Well, those roses you have...the ones that eat things...”

She frowned, it meant someone was trying to get close to the private wing of the manse. Golden Goblin only grew at the edges of the private courtyard.

“The Rosa Carnivora, Golden Goblin…” She said, amused at his description. “Yes...”

“There were bloody chunks on the thorns and large blooms...”

This was serious, everyone in her court knew enough to stay away from the Golden amber blooms surrounding her private courtyard or end up lunch. Whoever had stumbled into them had no such knowledge.

“They like Royal blood, so whoever ran into them is...was...Royal.” She said. “and attempted to enter the private courtyard...”

“The Gardener recovered the bones, we will have more to deliver later...” He took in a breath. “There are rumors already that this is in protest of the Aen Elle’s return...”

“We don’t know that they might have wanted to take out someone in power...” She said. “He just happened to be there...but there is unrest.”

“We increased security in the more public gardens...Lady Ciri seems to be having fun, she was amazed by the plants of this world...”

She paused, he’d not asked to see her but knew that she was enjoying the gardens.

“And, you know how?” Pen said, knowing the temptation was there.

“As I said, I said Va Fail when she was interred.” He said. “But her escorts talk...”

“I have no doubt.” She said. “If you find this too hard..”

“I would say so...” He said. “...There is more than one temptation in my way.”

She turned and kissed the corner of his mouth, his tic was becoming noticeable. He had not asked her to come to his bed since the night of the healing. She knew he was trying to stay sane, to have a grip on time and place.

“...Crevan...”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, kissing her temple. He stepped back to look at her, sighing. He wanted her, but it would not be fair with the memories stirred up in the last few days. He remembered the questions she’d asked a short/distant time ago, of a self that did not even know how to feel of the woman that traveled with him let alone the woman who pulled on his heart now.

“...I can answer the questions you asked me then…” He said. “In a world without the Frost, in a vineyard learning love takes time...and I still do...both of them...”

He removed his hands and left, taking hitching breaths. This was becoming very hard for him, to sort out then and now.

Pen sat for a short time, looking over the reports Crevan had left. She needed someone to talk to that wasn’t one of the three males she was bound to by varying bonds. The quiet sound of mist seeping under the door brought her attention, and Dettlaff formed before her out of the blood-red mist. He set a skull down on her desk, looked rather fresh and said the pack had eaten well.

“The thief…” He said, his voice rough. “his conspirators still evade us.”

She had sent Det and his pack hunting a few weeks ago, there were still those who would not cross their thresholds after sunset even after her assurances that they were hunting a thief and not the general population.

“Continue, find me those that would upset our balance...our peace.”

He bowed and faded into mist and out beneath the door.

She knew only his loyalty to Regis and to her were the only things holding back mass slaughter when she gave the order to hunt. She sighed and decided a shot of Mandrake moonshine would be a good idea.

Pen found herself in the Library looking for Regis, deciding she wanted a bottle of the hooch he brewed and not just a shot. He appeared in a cloud of mist, bottle in hand. He looked like he wished to speak to her as well.

“...I knew you’d come,” He said. “And you’d want a bottle…”

“Is it that obvious?” She said.

“I’d say yes, considering what I have heard out of Crevan privately in the last few weeks.” He said. “And it will remain so.” He set the bottle down. “I will only say he is as troubled by your...arrangement as you appear to be...”

She sighed, she didn’t drink the stuff save in shots the higher vampire offered now and again.

“I do not normally wish to rot my insides…” She said softly.

He opened the bottle and then ghosted back to retrieve something.

“...Geralt would say it made people say things they would rather not...”

He set two glasses on the table. It appeared he was going to take shots with her.

“Have the repairs disturbed you?”

“No, I will remind you that I am not something out of folklore...” He poured a measure into each glass. “...I’ve had one of the students try to stake me...on a dare, twice.” He downed his glass. “I was coughing up splinters for two days..."

“You can blame one Bram Stoker for that...” She said and downed her glass. “We have a copy of Dracula...”

“One of my assistants recommended I read it...I could not finish, it was absurd...”

Pen smiled, as one of the last of his kind Regis tended to find the legends rather...farcical.

“Its what happens when you disguise smut as High romance...”

He laughed. “Yes, I was reading up on that era...a thin vainer of respectable over rot...”

“Twilight was closer to the truth...but still..”

“Those...I wish to burn them...”

Pen found amusement in his reaction, a lot of people felt that way about the series.

“...I know you don't sparkle...” She said. “And I’d like to see someone tell Det that he does...”

She had grown up around the two Higher vampires, so she didn’t fear the other resident and reclusive vampire.

“No, I’ve lost count of who has asked me to bite them...and ask me if I know where Jacob is...”

She laughed softly, not sure if he was kidding or serious. Even knowing him near all her life.

“There is the little pearl I remember...” He said. “...it will straighten itself out, whatever you came to sort, I’ll send a bottle to your study...for emergency...” He poured another glass for her. “Here, one more...Then you should get back to your duties.”

She downed it and winced, the liquid burning as it went.

“...Thank you, Regis.” She said. “The repairs should be done in another two days and you won’t have to pin papers down...”

“I look forward to it...”

She rose and made her way back to her quarters, slightly wobbly.

The gentle knock before someone entered alerted Ciri she and Avallac’h they would be having a visit from the Lady Thorn or one of the many healers. She was surprised when it wasn't, this time Nuada had decided to visit.

“...Lady Cirilla, Avallac’h…” He said. “I’ve come to extend an invitation for dinner in the main hall tonight...”

They had been taking their meals here, but the opportunity to see the court in its finery made Ciri brighten.

“Pen thought it would do good to get to see a bit more than these rooms...or the gardens.” He said. “we will have appropriate clothes, and finery if you wish it...”

He watched Ciri darken at the mention of finery, a slight scowl. It was the same slight scowl he saw on Avallac’h’s face.

~That particular apple did not fall far from the tree...~ He thought, ~I’ve seen the same scowl on Pen's face when she’s told she has to wear “queen’s clothes” to dinner.~

“You won’t be prodded and polished too much...” He said. “It is more of an informal affair, and our guests have departed...” He gave that lopsided smile/smirk Pen adored.

“...And Pen cannot stand being stuffed into a gown.”

A tailor and seamstress swept in, Nuada departed.

Dinner reminded Ciri of those held in her grandmother’s court, though on a slightly tamer level. The mix of delicate and conversation seemed a bit laxer and there was calm there had not been there. Avallac’h must have been feeling better, as he asked her to dance, claiming that to dance enhanced control and sword work.

It was awkward watching them, remembering learning to dance the court dances. Nuada was amused. Until Ciri stormed out, toward the balcony. Pen hung her head in her hands. She watched Avallac’h count to a hundred in Elder before pursuing her.

“Brash, both of them...” Nuada said. “...Should we expect Crevan to show up at your study in a fit of self-pity tonight?”

“No, he agreed to spend the night in town, at the Orb-weaver.”

“So he is not our problem tonight...”’

“Crevan is not, Avallac’h however..."

The sound of an argument rang out, she was fleeing him again. Whatever he'd said on the balcony was making things worse. Pen began to rise to intervene.

“Let them sort it…” Nuada said, holding her arm. “They will need to if the world is to be free of the creeping Frost...”

The sound of a slap, and tears. The Sage returned, a large red mark on his face, Ciri did not.

Pen excused herself before she gave the Sage the sharp edge of her tongue. She found Ciri standing on a near-deserted patio on the other side of the main hall.

“He’s a bastard…” Ciri sobbed.

“All men are at some point…” Pen said, holding out a mug, she’d snatched two from the trays. “...Tell me what caused you to haul off and slap him like that?”

“...Said I had to stop thinking like a scared child.” Ciri said taking the mug.

~Yep, that would do it...~ Pen thought. ~Elven arrogance strikes again...~

“...You are not, in essence, a child, have not been since you Left Ker Morhen...”

“...Where do the stories say my road leads?”

~and with the hard questions...~

“...To defeat the White cold...” Pen said.

“You won’t tell me more?”

“No, I cannot...too much knowledge would taint the decisions you have to make, and not all of it will bring joy...”

“...Does he survive?”

Pen turned, taking a drink.

“Many survive...some find the peace they were looking for.” Pen said, then realized something. “...You’re not talking about Geralt are you?”

Ciri went silent, telling Pen exactly who the swallow was asking after.

“I cannot answer that...” Pen said. “It too would taint your decisions...”

“What can you answer...”

“That beneath the arrogance is a wounded heart.” She said. “You hold a dangerous gift, one that armies would fight and die for...that could spell destruction for many worlds.” She drank again. “...powerful enough that Lara Dorn hid away her firstborn child...”

Ciri hung her head, hearing but not.

“I don't want it...”

There it was, what hid behind the stubbornness, fear. She did not blame Ciri for not wanting the gift. She had not wanted to see the dark futures that had played in her head either.

“I did not want what I saw...” Pen said.

Ciri looked at her. “...Darkness.”

“Yes...the nightmares, blood and death...” She said. “It finally stopped when Dier and Nod were born. I thought it has gone for good, then my daughter woke with her first nightmare...” She frowned. “...Quiet nights were rare until she was able to begin learning...” She smiled. “Control is knowing when to focus a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass...or off a bronze mirror.”

“...You sound like you know...”

Pen smirked. “...I have four children and have taught many since becoming guild head...I know what control can do.” She looked and saw one of her guards. “Come on, back to dinner...no need to make the males any more worried...”

Ciri followed her inside.

Nuada watched the two women return, as the sage rose. He yanked him down to get a full-on scowl. He ignored it, he did not want any more disturbance this evening.

“...Do you want to get slapped again?” Nuada asked. “Because if you go stomping over there like an angry bull, you are and not just by Ciri...Pen packs a good left hook...” He frowned. “The hangover will be enough of a headache...I would not wish to add an aching jaw to that.”

The sage grumped and remained in his seat.

Pen returned to her seat as Ciri went dancing with another, the joy on her face. The music had changed, more rousing and tavern-like.

“...Lady Pen...” One of the musicians called out. “Come sing with us...”

Pen rose, downed her mug and went over to sing bawdy songs with the band. Nuada knew she would be very happy by the end of the night. Ciri seemed to be enjoying herself as well, being chatted up by both men and women her age.

“...Pen will not let her get into bed with anyone, most of those around her have a taste for their own gender...”

He saw the sage Stiffen, indicating he knew of the lover Ciri had prior to her training.

“...You will not turn her head with demands,” Nuada said. “Nor with silence...”

“Lady Pen is...”

“Human, yes...but she had lived among the unseen since she was a small child,” Nuada said. “It took me a long time to see that she was more of us than them.”

“You live beside them?”

“We have our problems still, those did not vanish with the stroke of a pen or sword,” Nuada said. “Now there is a new batch of troubles, old reasons that hold no more...” He watched Pen stand on a table and belt out a Shanty. “...I should go retrieve her before she has too much fun...”

He rose and went to the table and scooped her off it, sending up a torrent of laughter as he spun her in his arms and into a dance.

Ciri came back to the High table laughing and leaning on the shoulder of a young woman in leathers. The woman made sure Ciri sat before bidding her good night, then leaned over and saucily nipped Avallac’h’s ear tip before walking off. Ciri watched her mentor jolt upright, as a shudder when through him. The bawdy laughter rang back as the woman returned to the celebrations. He rubbed it absently as if the sensation was foreign to him.

“...Who was that?”

Ciri decided he was more shocked than angry, but his reaction was something to file away.

“Rhiannon...Lady Thorn sent me back here with her.” She said. “ did not expect her to do that...”

Aethen appeared behind them, amused. Rhi always did like her males to be silver foxes, Especially Aiden. He saw the Bard playing a tune and flirting with a red-headed Singer

until Rhi came to pull his head away.

“Rhiannon likes both genders.” He said. “She was flirting with you...”

“If that was flirting...” Avallac’h said, rubbing the tip still.

“And she likes to startle, I assure you if she was inclined to choose either of you tonight that nip would be much more than flirting.”

Rhiannon was being spun around in the arms of another Half-elf, looking down into his eyes with lust. Obviously her bed partner for the night.

Pen and Nuada returned to the table, giggling happily. Pen noticed the look of envy that Avallac’h gave them, then a side glance at Ciri. She turned and clapped her hands, all turned their attention to her.

“...Ladies and gentlefolk.” Pen said. “I know many of you must be up with the sun...so you don’t have to go home but you cannot stay here...”

Slowly the hall emptied, in twos and threes in some cases. The students would likely raid the still the teachers were supposed to know nothing about, and the elders spend a few hours in their lover’s arms or in the taverns.

Soon all that remained were them, the guards and very efficient kitchen staff. Aethen dismissed all the guards but Cullen and poured himself a mug from the remaining pitcher on the table. One by one each did the same, On a normal night, Crevan would be joining them for this ritual, an indication that one belonged in the inner circle.

“To the court...” Pen said.

“The Court...” came the echo and all downed the liquid to the dregs.

Aethen straightened himself and smiled.

“I’ll be spending the night with Tindel...” He said. “I’ll make sure our sage gets home safe...”

Pen acknowledged his words, Cullen said something on similar lines. Rhiannon came with her elf in tow, asking if she needed anything else... She was gone by the time Pen finished shaking her head.

“...Most dinners end like this...” Nuada said. “Informal ones anyway...”

A plate of sweets appeared on the table, honey-drenched fried dough.

“A simple sweet...” Pen said and took one.

“...eat your fill...”

Ciri practically dove into the plate.


	33. past and present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note it is cannon that Aurbron was a functional addict, it would stand to reason since the Aen Elle called Fisteck the white death it was a prevalent problem in Tir Na Lia and among the Aen Sidhe. I put forth the possibility that most of the Nobles of the inner court had partaken of it. the reference to Mushrooms comes from my thoughts that it wasn't just all academic knowledge the Aen Saevherne had...and it well could have been a "party favor" of the inner court as well.

The morning was met with large cups of what Ciri would later learn were called coffee. It seemed to be exclusive to human students and elders. Most of the Sidhe and Fey avoided it. She found out why when Avallac’h’s professional curiosity got the better of him. He downed two cups before Pen realized what he was doing and got the cup out of his hands. If a being could literately bounce off objects, that was Avallac’h for several hours after consuming the beverage. The crash was sudden and left him cursing himself.

“If I ever do that again...hit me over the head with the cup and put me out of my misery…” He’d commented to her as he lay face down with a headache from the withdrawal.

She had declined when offered the beverage, she did not want to experience the same.

Pen had watched with some amusement. The Sage’s reaction explained why Crevan had called her morning coffee a foul brew. She knew Avallac’h wouldn’t touch the stuff again, neither would Crevan. She would have to apologize for teasing him about fearing her coffee too, now knowing why.

“...I had mushroom trips more pleasant.” He told her when she plunked the headache tea in front of him. “And those always gave me nightmares...”

She raised an eyebrow, he looked down into his tea. He was not proud of those years and his arrogance in thinking he was untouchable. She did not press, knowing that such demons were not easily vanquished. Her silence must have prompted him to explain a bit more.

“...One does not refuse their king...A night at the Bloody Goblet is tame in comparison to the revels the inner circle of Aen Elle court had when Aubron ruled...and promised to marry his daughter...I was a part of it.”

She wondered how he could be so calm talking of this, of something that seemed so devastating. He tried to smile, make light of it. She knew it wasn’t a light subject.

“I stopped such things when I began to train Ciri, and forbid her the same. It was the sickness you saw upon me, controlled but not completely gone as of then.” He looked at her. “Do I miss it...the politically correct answer would be no, the honest one...”

She saw his tic become rapid, part of the damage and part of his agitation. She put her hand over his.

“I did not mean to bring up a painful subject…”

He smiled at her, shaking his head slowly.

“...You found amusement in a past adventure, it was I who did so.” He drank down the tea and made a sour face. “...Hoof scrapings...”

She smiled softly as he rose, He kissed her temple. She had not expected the gesture.

“...I think knowing as I do now, it would have been worse...”

He left, leaving her standing there in a bit of awe.

Lunch found Pen looking through an alchemy text, one that had been found in the room of a student. It was the formula for black powder. The student had also been found with other substances, ones that had gotten them expelled and the contents of their room confiscated.

“...It’s from the restricted archive...and I thought all copies of it were burned.” Regis said when he was brought the text. “Whoever got this snuck past Det, I should be impressed...”

“Lochain was never one to let the truth go unrecorded, hidden perhaps but not unrecorded…” Pen said. “Only you and the other alchemists have access to this text, the powder itself...exploding things to demonstrate the dangers...”

“Or to simply blow things up...it amazes me how stupid people can be around something so volatile...”

“Humans can be stupid…” She said. “The other substances, those in the archive too?”

When she had shown Crevan he had immediately known what one was. He had backed up a few paces and eyed it like it was toxic waste.

“One...and the elements you would need do not exist here and now…” He said. “The equivalent would be easier to get...and produce.”

“This is not making sense…” She said. “First the bomb, then the theft of bottles of grain spirit and black powder. But why make this...it is no more potent than the modern version…”

Regis frowned, it appeared they had a spy in their midst.

“I’ll do a sweep to see if any other texts are missing.” He said. “Whoever this is, they are sowing chaos...”

“If they wish to build bombs...”

“There are more common texts…” He said. “Go on...you have enough trouble with the Aen Elle...let the court take care of this.”

She nodded.

Ciri watched Pen move, absolutely deviating the practice dummy. Tam shook his head. Gideon frowned, Their mother was having a bad day.

“...I’d take her to the Orb, but I don’t think we have enough trade chits between us to cover the damages...” Tam said. “Nor stand the lecture we’d get from Aethen over bringing her there for such a thing...”

“...This is bad?” Ciri asked.

“She hasn’t pulled out steel so that is a thing…” Gideon said. “And we have a delegation that is asking for the disbanding of the Court...and with the explosion and thefts...”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t thrown a Wench at them...”

“Wouldn’t work...they have their own Thots...”

Ciri was surprised by the way they were talking. This seemed rather disrespectful.

“Forgive us Lady Ciri…” Tam said. “Our Atara rarely gets this agitated….”

The practice dummy’s head landed at their feet.

“Students won’t be happy, “Fred” will be up for repairs...”

The arms and legs followed, and the torso exploded in sawdust and stuffing.

“Fred?” Ciri asked.

“The name of the practice dummy, Atara named him after a very infuriating student of some years back…” Tam knelt down, lifting up the head. “Yep...its the delegation, he has pointed ears...”

Pen walked passed them, shoved the sticks into Tam’s hands, making him drop the head to take them as she stomped off.

“...Told you,” Gideon said. “Pay up...”

“You spend too much time with Atar...”

“All the better to get the juicy stuff...”

Tam held the sticks in one hand, reaching into a pouch at his hip, pulled three trade chits and handed them to his little brother.

Crevan frowned as he watched Pen Stomp passed him toward her office, not her study as usual. He had seen that stomp before, a thousand times. First with Lara, then Ciri and then with his own daughters.

“They do not change, those of the Elder blood...fire and stubbornness.” He said quietly. “Naught can be done until their heads cool..."

“I would agree with you, master sage…” Said the young Sidhe standing beside him. “...Lady thorn has both in equal measure...”

He took in a breath, wondering what Ciri would have said on her. No doubt liked her, it was hard to remember sometimes.

Avallac’h sat trying to clear his mind, the temptation to ask the healers where he could...no there was the death in that direction. He could not leave the Elder blood unprotected. He could not leave Ciri unprotected. He could not do that if he was very much out of his mind on the White Death. He still shook when the near maddening need came, one snort, one small brush on the inside of his lip...

“No…” He hissed. “I will not go down that path...”

Steps distracted him from his attempts. He looked up, it was Pen with a bowl of soup. He rose and went to meet her.

“You did not come to lunch…” She said. “You must eat to finish healing...”

“I have no appetite…” He said.

She set the bowl on the table as he reached it. He had dreamed of her again the night before, of her in his arms.

“...I have to apologize for the last few days.” She said. “We have been keeping Ciri busy...I think the court intrigues her...”

“As she has said, it is good to see her happy…” He said, moving to stand beside her. “How long until they come, this peace cannot hold…”

She was very aware of him, she shifted slightly, but he followed her movement.

“For some time yet...and not without a price.” She said, knowing he was studying her. “There are other problems that may shatter our peace...”

He placed his hands on her arms, feeling her tense as he looked into her eyes. Those were Ciri’s eyes, Lara’s eyes. He knew the elder blood lived on still in this far future. He shifted his hand to lift her chin, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. As abruptly as he’d touched her, he stepped away.

“...You are the last…” He said.

“No…” Pen said. “Not the last...only a bridge.”

He remembered the two little children, Lara’s many generations removed Great-grandchildren. Her blood and he hoped...one day through Ciri, his. He backed a few steps from her, knowing one kiss would destroy the whole pattern he’d seen. Pen let out a breath, gripping the edge of the table.

“There will come a day…” She said softly. “A secret will be whispered to you...”

He saw something in her eyes shift, darken as if the knowledge she held was a burden.

“Weigh with care your choice...”

She closed her eyes for a moment and they were bright again. She had to leave before he did something he would regret.

“I must go...eat, it will help you focus a little bit better...”

She was gone before he could ask what kind of Soup she had brought.

Pen made it to her study, Crevan was waiting. He didn’t say a word, only closing and locking the door before he backed her against the desk. He gave her now what he wished to give her then, lifting her up on his body as he stumbled with her toward the hearth. Hands fumbled with clothing, adjusting enough to complete their coupling.

“...Forgive me…” He whispered, against her ear. “I wanted you then, but you could not have loved me, not as I was...”

He pulled her against his body as he thrust, burying himself deep. He moaned against her neck, still himself. His body shook as he held her then began moving.

She clung to him as he gave of himself. She matched him, holding him tight against her. They would have to talk after this was done, of his feelings and how he truly felt about sharing her. Release rocked them both, bound them tighter. He groaned into her neck again, emptying into her.

For a long time, he sat on his heels holding her as his body calmed. He was a fool, a wise, loving fool. So many things he had to admit to himself, about her about Ciri and Lara. He lay Pen down gently and lay beside her on the hearth-rug, not wanting to move from her side.

“...Crevan.” Pen said softly. “I could have loved you then…”

“No, heart song you could not have…” He said, playing with a few strands of her hair. “all I cared for was Lara’s bloodline...loved the idea of her I was left with. Ciri...she was a love I never thought...in the end, she was not happy at my side. Now you are before me, all I can see are these lines…” He lifted her arm and ran his fingers down the inked brambles. “...despite trying to sort out where they begin or end.”

She sat up slowly, he followed as they sat there. “...if you wish to…”

“No, I do not wish an end.” He said sitting up as well. “I want something more...something I know I cannot be granted...”

She reached down and lifted up his left hand, she touched the ring of brambles and rose. He did not understand yet what the ring on his finger meant. He looked down at it, he’d not removed it since that night. She kissed his palm the raised scar from where he’d pledged his blood and body by silver and iron.

“...It is a silly wish.” He said.

“No my silver fox, it is not.” She said. “Sort out your heart...come to breakfast at the castle and we will all talk of a future together…”

She got up and offered to help him, she was going to go to the castle and try to sort out her own head enough to make her choices from the head as well as her heart.

Ciri returned to sit with Avallac’h bringing a tray with dinner upon it. He knew they needed to go, the Red Riders would not come here, he knew but had spawned them was knocking on the doorstep of a place many had hoped was a sanctuary and a bridge. In a way, The Court of Thorns was what Lara had wanted peace between humans and elves. He knew the longer they staid, the more danger could come calling.

“Those that follow the Swallow…” He repeated part of the prophecy. “Will survive the frost…”

Ciri stopped mid-bite and looked at him, in the last weeks she had slept and ate better in the year and a half they had been running.

“What are you thinking of...Crab apple.”

He ignored her little endearment, though he secretly had come to like it.

“Words, Lady Thorn’s and ancient ones...”

They had come to a comfortable rapport, well enough to know what the end goal required of each of them.

“He won’t be happy...even if I choose my own path.”

They spoke of the end, the place where the frost would cover the worlds. He had brought her there, shown her. She had returned to protect Geralt and freed him from the Riders.

“No, your Witcher will not be...Nor will I, but I will not stop you.”

She looked at him, he had lied, cajoled, deceived...protected her, healed her, taught her. What had changed in him, what it because of her blood as he claimed? Or because he remembered Lara.

“I’m afraid…” She said, admitting it to herself.

He stood and wrapped his arms around her, held her. She only half caught what he whispered in Elder Speech into her ashen hair. No, they were not lovers, but his embrace offered comfort.

“...I will teach you to overcome it.” He said as a promise.

She leaned into the embrace, laying her head on his shoulder.

Crevan stood on the balcony of his suite, remembering that first embrace. It was the first time he’d said he’d...loved her. He was thankful she did not understand fully, had not really heard what he said. He’d said it many times over, even after their parting. He did love Ciri, more than he’d ever loved Lara he admitted quietly.

He was also thinking of what he actually wanted from his relationship to Pen and of his king. He had not told Pen that prior to Lara, his youthful preference had been for males. He did find the king attractive, though he doubted Nuada thought the same way. He’d had a male lover when Ciri was in Tir Na Lia, though that relationship had quickly turned sour when that she-elf had stuck her nose in. His initial relationship with Ciri was not the only one that shrew had soured. He looked down to see Rhiannon with her latest lover, a female this time.

“The Spymistress at her Job no doubt.” He said softly. “I wonder what the report will be in the morning...”

He went back inside, closing the doors. He had some deep thinking to do.


	34. promises and possibilities

_At the Royal Seat..._

Pen perched herself on the window seat, cider in her mug. Nuada was at some kingly duty, he’d come soon enough. She had known that this venture was going to be easy, neither politically or emotionally. The revelation that Crevan had loved her for centuries, even as he loved Ciri, was something she did not know how to process. She set her mug down, the drink was not going to give her any more clarity.

Soft steps pulled her out of her thoughts, she looked to see Aethen there. It said Nuada was still busy with his duties.

“...I smell cider.” He said. “So you’re thinking on your fox...what did he do this time?”

She smiled, Aethen was closer in the day to day observation than Nuada was so could say such things. It was also easier in some ways to talk to him, as he’d experienced a polycule.

“More of what he did not say…” She said. “He’s loved me since...Avallac’h loved me...or was infatuated...”

Aethen frowned. “...I thought he loved Ciri...”

“He does, or will…” She said. “Leave it to me to be caught in another tangled knot…”

“And a thorny one at that,” Aethen said, sitting and putting her feet in his lap. “How do you feel of it?”

“Flattered, lost, jealous…” she said. “Though I know I shouldn’t feel later, but can’t help it knowing now what I do…”

Aethen laughed. “So there is a green-eyed monster in there…” He said.

She would have thrown something at him but did not want to waste good cider to pitch the mug at his head. But he was right, it had been a long time since she’d felt jealousy.

“In all seriousness, what is it that is making you so...that relationship was long over before he ever acted on his feelings…”

He was right of this as well, Ciri had been gone for centuries before she even met him.

“Perhaps because she won his heart so easily or took it with her when she crossed the Veil…”

“You know it was not that easy to win...or for him to admit,” Aethen said. “Hell, he won’t even admit he finds himself attractive…”

She looked at him he laughed, a revelation considering the Bed incident. Then again she’d not batted an eye over the morning after their little threesome romp.

“...He likes both, or does now.” Aethen said. “One of the Delegation was kind enough to inform me, after several shots of Regis’ hooch….”

“Aethen…” She said.

“He didn’t like females...so Aiden asked me to help.” He said. “We are trying to find who the spy is in our court...we use what tools we have.”

“...I do not want to give that order yet…”

He nodded. “Now about your feelings…”

She picked up her mug and took a drink, perhaps it wasn’t a good idea for her to be sober to talk of this.

_The next morning..._

Pen sat at the table in the Royal Solar, looking at the two males sharing the table with her. Nuada looked like he wanted to delay this conversation, though he’d suggested it. Crevan was not hiding his tics, just as uncomfortable. They did not know where to begin, to talk of how to make this work in the midst of the looming troubles. The sooner they could make a strong bulwark against their detractors the sooner they could iron out the small details. Right now it was the big ones that needed to be talked of.

“...we have talked to each other separately.” Pen finally said. “But we have not talked together of what we want. I know my feelings are reciprocated by both of you, I know we are bound by something neither of us expected...”

Crevan took in a breath, he’d thought long into the night. If he could not be honest in how he felt, how could he be honest with his lover?

“...I am overwhelmed by this…” He admitted. “I find myself with feelings that I have not felt for a long while, and fear they would be one-sided.”

Nuada frowned. “I assure you if they are honest they will not be...”

Pen knew they would dance around that for a while, having found out the night before about Crevan’s preferences. She remembered Aethen teasing once too often, and though males were not Nuada’s preference he had pressed him to the wall with a kiss. When it ended, Aethen had slid down the wall and then excused himself to the privy. He had not teased Nuada that intensely since.

“...I must think about it.” Crevan said. “I do not wish my actions upon them to become a nasty rumor, there are enough with my being with our lady...”

That was another thing, the rumors that would spawn from their choices.

“...We both wish to see our lady happy.” Nuada said softly. “...We have already chosen a way to spice up our dance...

“So that is where those little wispy things are coming from.” Pen said. “I thought I had pixies carrying off my underwear again...”

“Is it such a crime to wear those wisps for a few hours…before one of us takes them off you.”

Crevan was fidgeting, Pen turned her stare to him.

“And the tongs...”

The sage’s cheeks and ears darkened at the tips, telling her exactly who had chosen that style for her. Nuada’s smirk said on who’s recommendation it had been.

“I should make you two wear them, you’d find out just how uncomfortable they are…” She said. “but for Court, I am guessing I choose and you two guess...you’re both going to end up with blue balls…” she took a sip of her coffee. “But back to seriousness...”

“...Bed arrangements.” Crean said. “Though We all have our own…”

Nuada decided to make the leap, and let the people gossip. He’d make sure it did not get passed the servants.

“Both of you will be in mine while we are at the Royal seat.” He said. “If it is a bed you will be found in, it shall be mine…”

Crevan set down his mug, licking his lips. Nuada watched him.

“I do not call it settled.” Pen said. “But a solution for the time being.”

She got up, knowing there were things they had to discuss before bringing it to her.

“I will leave you to iron out who leads the steps of this dance...and my silver heart, do not bruise him...unless that is what he desires…” She planted kisses on their cheeks and hurried out.

Crevan sat there, still fidgeting with his mug. Nuada took it from him to make him look up. He stood as he felt uncomfortable sitting while the king loomed over him.

“...You’ve had men before.” Nuada said.

“Youthful adventure,” Crevan said. “...I have had lovers of both genders since then…”

Nuada pulled him against his body, holding him in place. He felt Crevan tremble, it said a bit of the kind of relationships he’d had with a few of his lovers.

“I was told not to bruise you…” Nuada said in a low voice. “...I promise you, Fox, once you are in my bed…”

Crevan trembled to reach up his hand, Nuada caught it and captured the other male’s lips. Crevan struggled for a few moments before melting into his King’s embrace and kiss.

Nuada released him, watching him slump back into the chair. He sat there panting if that was just a taste of what he would know. He looked up at his king, he made to move but Nuada stopped him.

“No, I will not do to you what your former king did to you.” He said. “I will not use you...you are not a toy.”

He picked Crevan up out of the chair to stand again, stroking his ear tip.

“I will share you, truly...with our lady. It is not only sex, this dance we will dance. Pen will tell you how possessive I can be with what I consider mine…”

Crevan let out a hitched breath with each stroke of the king’s fingers over his ear. He trembled in Nuada’s grasp, eyes wide.

“...I think I will have a ring placed here…” Nuada said, pausing at the very tip of Crevan’s ear. “...with an aquamarine, to match your eyes...such beautiful eyes…” He moved to stroke over Crevan’s silver hair. “This will reach your ass, soft as silk...”

It was only the King’s strong grip that kept him upright, or else he would have melted into a puddle. Nuada knew this, reading the expressions in the fox’s face.

“...Tonight…” Nuada promised. “With our lady, I shall show you such delights…”

He let Crevan go, letting him sink into the chair again before he left him.

Pen was in the castle town market when Nuada found her. She was bartering for a length of black silk. She could feel him behind her, he must have really turned up the sexual tension to still be radiating it.

“...You did not bruise him.”

“No, but I think he’ll be going anywhere for a short time.” He said. “I see you are getting a new toy…”

“I wish to experiment…” She said. “And I do not wish to bruise too much…”

He smiled, “...He tasted like oranges...”

“He had orange blossom tea this morning…” She said.

“...and he melts like chocolate…” He said with some amusement.

“What did you promise him?” She asked softly.

“Delights…” He said. “And I was not about to take him over the table like some serving wench, that is too crude…and I wish to show my possession another way.”

She moved on to barter for a length of aquamarine-colored silk.

“The jeweler has some smaller stones…” She said. “I think one of them was an aquamarine…”

Nuada laughed softly, “I did promise an adornment…”

She turned and reached up to gently tug on the small ring at the tip of his ear, earning a soft sound from him.

“We still need to talk more…” She said. “This morning was a simple start...and tonight…”

“An adventure...One I hope we will go on again…” He said. “...but yes, it will need to be more than sex…”

“...I do not wish him to be a weakness.” She said.

“Under my protection, he will not be…” He said. “and if I am possessive, all the better…”

She smiled, “Shall I find two dozen roses this time…”

He laughed softly. “Three…” He teased.

“...before the court will take on a whole new meaning for him if we take him on that little adventure…”

“It can wait, I still must decide how I view the fox...though watching him melt again will be interesting. I must get a few things...but I will meet you back for lunch…”

She smiled. “Yes, I need a few things too...and make sure the fox is OK...you can be intense…”

He smiled and kissed her lightly before moving on to the Jewelers.

Crevan sat while the servants cleared away the dishes, still too wobbly to trust his legs. He’d never had felt so...he shook his head. He’d have to focus, think. He rose, breathing to give some bones to his legs. He shivered at the memory of Nuada’s fingers over his ear, the promise of an adornment. He stood and ran his hand over his hair, a promise that he was to be pampered enough for his hair to be as long as a courtesan’s.

“Lord Crevan…”

He turned to see a messenger with a large document case, no doubt reports from the freehold. He took the case and a few breaths before he headed to his quarters to look over the reports and perhaps think of the possibilities.


	35. Three for the dance

_A short while later…_

Pen smiled as she looked over the stack of reports Next to Crevan as he worked over them. He raised his head to smile at her, but she could see his mind was elsewhere.

  
“Are you Ok?” She asked softly. “Nuada can be intense…”

  
“I...did not expect that…”

  
She reached over and stroked the outer edge of his ear. He shuddered, setting down the quill.

  
“...Do not do that, please.” He said. “I need to concentrate….”

  
She leaned in and kissed the tip of his ear, another shudder. She sat back, watching him. He picked up the quill and went back to the reports.

Lunch was brought to the Royal solar and the servants dismissed. Pen smiled at her two males, one looking regal and very much the royal, the other more absorbed in reports carefully arranged to avoid food spills.

  
“...Merchants wish to trade Aen Elle goods.” Crevan said, pausing to swallow a few bites.

  
Pen knew it would be good business, and Crevan and the other Aen Elle who had settled in the freehold would have access to goods from their people.

  
“Limited…” Nuada said. “but basic goods will be allowed…”

  
Crevan made a note on the report, then looked at her.

  
“...I have no objections to basic goods.” She said. “But I agree it should be limited…”

  
He made another note, as Lord of the Court it would be up to him to answer the petition.

  
“Of tonight…” Crevan said, putting the reports back into a stack and out of the way. “There is nothing in either the court...and other than minor concerns nothing tomorrow…”  
Pen smiled. “...Plenty of time.” She said.

  
Nuada leaned in and pulled Crevan toward him, kissing his lips lightly.

  
“...is there anything until dinner?”

  
Pen raised her eyebrow, “Not that I remember…”

  
Nuada kissed Crevan again, a bit longer.

  
“...Now you have to share.” Pen said leaning into his other side and nibbled on Crevan’s ear. “...And I’d prefer a bed…”

  
Nuada frowned, “True, this is not a crude thing…” He said.

  
Crevan shuddered between them, “Bed…” he whispered.

  
“I do owe my fox a tease…” Pen said softly.

  
She nibbled down his ear and along his jaw, to his throat.

  
“I did that already...but true, he is owed...as am I.”

  
Lunch went on a little longer than planned...and Crevan was reluctant to get out of his seat.

_That night…_

Dinner had to be held in the grand hall, but it gave them all a chance to give each other steamy looks and promises veiled by innuendo and subtle flirting. The whispers started as soon as the three of them appeared together, some rather nasty. Pen ignored them but watched Crevan flinch at the suggestion he had been fucking Nuada behind Pen’s back. She put a hand on his shoulder, seeing his fingers moving into a gesture.

  
“They will question, and are envious of our lord…” She whispered into his ear. “...do not waste the power…”

  
“Setting them on fire won’t hurt them...much.” He responded.

  
She smiled, her hand going down to move his fingers out of the sign.

  
“...You took your oath, and for us, it is enough.” She traced the raised line on his palm. “Tonight you make the oath to your king.”

  
He eyed the one who looked smug, who had been whispering the loudest.

  
“...if he continues,” Nuada said, loud enough to be heard by those whispering. “I will take his tongue myself…”

  
There were those at court who forgot their king had other skills beside diplomacy and statecraft, there were reasons for the scars on his body.

  
“Let us not resort for that…” Pen said.

  
Crevan frowned. “...With my lady’s permission, I wish to retire.”

  
Pen nodded, Nuada echoed it. He rose and made his way out of the grand hall.

Crevan made his way to his quarters, he needed his head together. It had been a long time since he’d felt so...alive. He poured himself some of the sweet wine, then sitting by the hearth. Another letter lay on the table, no doubt delivered at some point between lunch and now. He frowned, no he did not wish to think of the past now, not when the future was only a short distance away. His attention went to the book next to the letter, in bold letters the title “The Last Unicorn”. He’d asked for the title, as it appeared one of Pen’s favorite stories. It would be a few hours before they could pull away from the hall and he decided the story was a better option than the past and began reading.

_A few hours later…_

The sound of Pen and Nuada brought Crevan out of the book. He was enjoying the story, but could not see why it was so loved. But then again, he had not gotten far. He’d asked for the text in the common tongue, and he’d had to pause to absorb the words.

  
“...The unicorns went down the road long ago…” Pen said as she came up behind him, quietly.

  
He turned, “As your people were led to believe…”

  
She smiled. “As I said, went down the road long ago…”

  
She leaned in and kissed his ear tip as she went to divest herself of her “queen’s clothes” and finery.

Nuada watched Crevan as he divested himself of his finery, all the better to claim the sage if his clothes were found here.

  
“...a little bet, sage?” Nuada asked as he stripped off his tunic.

  
“...She will wear a gown, all the better for us to take it off her…” Crevan said as he set the book aside. “...It amazes me what humans will tell of the creatures that lived beside them.”

  
“So you're reading that book,” He said. “I should have her set a date for movie night...you will enjoy the tale better seeing it.”

  
He had heard of “Movies” before when he and Ciri had hidden in that strange place where war was waged by the mind rather than by muscle.

  
“Sometimes the images in the mind are best, but yes I think seeing it would help…”

  
“Settled then, We will set a night aside for it.”

  
Pen returned in a whisp of a nightgown, falling in shades of blue to green. Both raised eyebrows as she made her way to bed.

It took a little bit, but Both joined her, bodies sliding together. She started out in the center, her lovers expressing their desire in touch and word. She slid out of the center placing Crevan there, feeling him shudder with each touch.

Nuada rolled him to his belly, working down gently as he reached for the bottle of oil Pen had brought from their quarters. He was gentle, knowing it had been a long time since Crevan had last had a male lover. The groan that came and the gripping of sheets said just how long it had been. He worked slow, sinking his oil-covered fingers into the sage, earning a groan on each plunge. The laundry was not going to be happy with them for the sheets but one did not do this quickly.

When he replaced his fingers with his cock, the sound Crevan made said so much of him and how he held back. Once in, he rolled them onto their sides, placing Pen at his front, guiding him to sink into her.

  
“Embrace your queen…” Nuada whispered into the Sage’s ear. “Hold her tightly, hold to your oath…”

  
They rocked, working him between them. The pace quickened, lips upon skin, hands moving to caress. Skin turning slick with oil and sweat.

  
“...Ours…” Nuada and Pen said in unison as they nibbled on either side of his throat.

  
He withered between them as teeth found flesh, stilling him as the bites went deeper. He groaned as he was claimed, marked by his now lovers. The rocking began again their teeth never leaving his skin.

Sleep came late to them, the night filled with pleasure. They fell asleep spooned together, Crevan between them. They woke now and again, to love again until dawn came and true sleep found them.

The sound of the servants coming with the simple breakfast woke Pen first. She extracted herself, pulling on one of the discarded tunics as she padded to the privy to relieve herself and back to make her mourning coffee. Nuada followed, reluctant to leave Crevan to wake on his own but he needed to go be king for morning court. He snatched up a sandwich of toast and egg Pen had made him and down a mug of tea.

  
“I will be free at lunch, you should go back to the freehold…” He kissed her and padded to the royal suite. “Better to cut the rumors that are flying around...”

  
She nodded as she finished her breakfast, waiting for Crevan to wake so they could bathe and head back.

_A while later…_

Crevan sat in the saddle as they headed back. He was a bit sore but ignored it for the sensations his mind kept playing. He turned and winced, the two bruises on his neck a reminder that he’d been claimed. Pen had offered some numbing cream, but he’d refused. He’d hidden them beneath a collared tunic, once again the quiet sage despite being thoroughly bedded the night before.

  
“...You do not have to be weary.” She said. “You are my lover…”

  
Let out a breath. “It has been a very long time since I felt what I felt last night.”

  
“You’ve had a threesome before?”

  
His fingers twitched, “Only once, and that was simply rutting compared to last night…”

  
“...Ge’els?” She could see his smirk. “Eriden?”

  
He let out a laugh. “...No, though Ge’els tried to woo me before Lara. Eriden was...a lapse in judgment.”

  
“Ok, that may explain a few things…” She said. “And Ge’els harsh words...”

  
“Yes, he was as bad as that female…” He said. “knowing Eriden as I did, I could not let him have Ciri…” He turned to watch the trail ahead. “...I regret a few of my affairs.”  
“I wish humans didn’t have the hang-ups they have about relationships.”

  
“The same things in our relationships can doom them.” He said. “My focus upon the elder blood doomed many of mine...and near doomed me.”

  
“...and now?”

  
He smiled. “...I’d cut my own heart out first.”

  
She smiled, moving the horses along.

The freehold welcomed them home, Aethen meeting at the gate. He looked at Crevan and then at her. He leaned in and observed the collar.

  
“...I beg your pardon.” Crevan said, backing up a bit.

  
“...those bruises will last a few days…” Aethen said.

  
Crevan reached up to one, his cheeks darkening.

  
“Aethen…” She said.

  
“...the bruises are spreading a bit,” he said. “You got him good…”

  
“Well claimed…” Pen said. “How has it been?”

  
“Three students have been found with the text, and well there are pieces of pickled being on your desk in jars from Det and the pack…”

  
Pen frowned, Crevan inclined his head to say he’d meet her inside.

  
“...We questioned the students, they were tight-lipped.” He said. “And the parts are...well, were, an Aen Elle elf…”

  
She shuddered. “...Any other things you did not put in the reports?”

  
“We found a catch of black powder hidden in one of the dorm rooms...and some anti-Aen Elle propaganda.”

  
“How are the Aen Saevherne holding up…”

  
He looked in the direction Crevan had gone.

  
“well, but they are keeping to themselves…” He said. “We have an unwanted guest…”

  
She frowned. “Who?”

  
“Ge’els...he is here to talk to Crevan.”

  
She frowned. “Where did you stuff him?”

  
“The guest wing, and have a few of the thorns on him,” Aethen said. “He is looking for a reason to rally the Aen Elle against you...but they think little of humans…”

  
“I know…” She said. “We need to have a little chat with Ge’els...but I need to talk to Crevan first.”

  
Aethen nodded, strolling toward the manse with her.


	36. Rising tide

_A short while later…_

Crevan frowned as he settled into the Guild’s office, the early morning reports began to come in. He looked down when Pen came with willow bark tea and a small sandwich. He smiled up at her as she set down in the chair beside him. He let out a soft hiss when she brushed the top of his collar where her bite bruised his skin.

  
“Ge’els is here…” She said. “It appears he wishes to talk to you. I have no idea why you’ve made it clear you are a part of our high court.”

  
“It appears he still thinks I am out of my mind, or that you have cast some spell over me...the only one is over my heart.” He sipped the tea, letting it work. “...He still sees me as the sage I was, not the male I’ve become…”

  
“Do you wish to meet with him?” She asked softly. “I can give excuses…”

  
He let out a sigh, shaking his head. Ge’els was persistent on something he felt strongly about, and despite being antagonistic he could mean well.

  
“I will see him if I refuse he will try other ways...and there is a letter I need to read. It showed up last night, didn’t want to have my head in the past.”

  
She reached out and gave one of his plaits a gentle tug, earning a soft grunt from him.

  
“I will abide by what you wish, I have a little errand I need to run.”

  
“...I am capable of avoiding him for now. I did it well for a long time.” He said. “He will have to wait...”

  
She laid a kiss on his cheek, earning a smile as she rose to go see their guests.

Pen knocked on the door, listening for things to be set down before she opened the door. She frowned when she entered, noticing Ciri and Avallac’h were arguing over her inability to use her power efficiently. She was beginning to understand why Crevan said she could not have loved Avallac’h, the male was infuriating.

“...Ciri, you are doing the best you can.” Pen said. “Holding more than one item is not an easy task, even with your power...”

  
She could feel Avallac’h stare at her in a mix of anger and longing. She set down the tray she’d brought, wanting to gauge his healing. He did not limp, but she could see he was hiding his hurt from Ciri.

  
“...She did not grow among your people.” Pen reminded him. “And she has not the patience to train her mind for hours…”

  
Ciri watched her set out a small repast. She could feel the changes beginning between them, the feelings either would deny if asked. Pen smiled, setting a book beside Avallac’h’s plate.

  
“...I brought something I believe you will like.” Pen said touching the book. “Something to aid both of you…”

  
Ciri came around to look at the title “Grimm’s fairy tales”. She looked at Pen.

  
“One of the books I read to my children…” Pen said. “And something to read in the evening."

  
Ciri looked at Avallac’h, who was frowning. It was clear he did not like his flaws pointed out. Few like him would. Knowledge did not nessassarly mean wise.

  
“All I ask is that you do not stain it with food.” She said.

  
Pen turned and departed.

Pen headed to the library, needing the quiet and perhaps to talk to Regis. She wandered the stacks, pausing here and there to take note of the students among them. Her brain still trying to shift through the previous night’s events. She could almost laugh, she now had two passionate lovers. Each had a different kind of passion though, Each filled a spot in her heart and soul. She only half heard the soft elven steps come up behind her.

  
“Lady Thorn…”

  
She turned to face a much younger image of Crevan, hair was still blond and fuller. She put her hand to her mouth to cover her gasp.

  
“At last I look upon the daughter of my son…” His voice was much like Crevan’s though he had more the lilt of the Aen Sidhe “...I see my agents did not lie of your beauty.”

  
Pen pulled her self together, not knowing what to say to the male before her. He studied her with the same Cerilan eyes as his sire. She shook herself to bring herself into focus.

  
“Forgive me, I’ve startled you.” He said. “My name Is Fayden aep Faoileán.”

  
She almost laughed, but remembered sometimes plain sight was the best.

  
“I was directed here when I asked to speak with you.” He said. “I wish to do so with you first before I...if he will see me.”

  
She knew he meant Crevan, who still had so many mixed emotions when it came to Lara and the child she’d born who now stood before her.

  
“...He tore apart his quarters when you sent your agent to announce your house to my court.” She said.

  
He reached in to his tunic and handed her a scroll, folding her hands around it. He frowned.

  
“...It is for him, a record of my children.” He said. “I intend to keep my house out of the attention of the Aen Elle for a little while longer.” He studied her again. “...I will send more correspondence and perhaps I can come to know you and your children better…”

  
She nodded, Knowing Crevan would feel pride in the one before her. He gave a bow and departed leaving her with a thousand more questions than she’d started out the day with.

Crevan put aside the reports and turned his attention to the letter that had been delivered the night before. He read it slowly, not knowing how to feel of the letter or what was within. He even had doubts he’d ever meet the son hidden from him. He finished it quickly, setting it aside as Pen came and set a tray before him. She wanted him to eat.

  
“...I have something for you.” She said, laying the scroll she’d been given “...I met your son, he wishes to remain hidden a bit longer, considering what may be becoming…”  
He let out a held breath as he picked up the scroll, his hands shook. Hers came around his to steady them.

  
“You do not have to open this now.”

  
He shook his head, “I...I have to, I wish to know.”

  
“Even if knowing will cast your doubts deeper?”

  
“You have read this?” He asked taking his hands out of hers and setting the scroll down.

  
“No, I wished you to read it first.”

  
He knew why she wanted him to read it.

  
“...I will, I think a bit later.” He said, reaching up to cup her cheek. “...now I wish to have lunch with my lady…”

  
She smiled, leaning down to kiss his lips.

Pen ended up back in her study after a pleasant lunch with Crevan, promising him the evening after the reports were finished. She slumped into her chair, head in her hands. She frowned at the small sheaf of papers laying on the desk with the jars. Det was through and must have exerted a good deal of power to keep the parts she’d been presented with from being eaten. She began to read, frowning with each line.

  
“...You rat bastard.” She hissed, setting down the papers. “You knew...you encouraged it…”

  
She rose, she would have to talk to Crevan, it appeared their evening would be quite eventful.

Crevan frowned after Pen showed him the report and the pickled offerings from Dettlaf and the pack. He had shuddered at the savagery the vampires had expressed. He knew that the creatures were a useful tool, one that had to be used with great care. It was one tool she used sparingly, one he was grateful she had not unleashed upon the Aen Elle when they’d first arrived.

  
“...What shall we do.” He asked. “I admit I thought of it out of Eriden, but not Ge’els…”

  
“You said that one does not refuse their king…” She said. “And considering the appetites of the court...he would have continued to supply that poison long after Eriden’s defeat.”

  
He frowned, his fingers twitching. She knew he didn’t want to have this conversation, to dredge up old pains.

  
“...It is lucky the present monarch finds it distasteful.” Pen continued. “...Or so sources have said, but him having access to it, that is a problem as is his vehement dislike of my Court.”

  
She watched a smile twitch across his lips, she could see his old self calculating the risks and coming choices.

  
“...Since he desires to talk to me, shall we arrange something...give evidence of his disloyalty to the young Monarch?”

  
She smiled. “Oh, we do not have to go that far, a bit of fear…” She frowned. “I can ask Regis to go all scary murder badger on him...”

  
“That may be a declaration of war…”

  
“Yes, that is why after I invite him and confront him, I’m going to be scarce, and I suggest the same after you are finished “Talking” to him.”

  
He nodded, “I will arrange the meeting, and invite Regis...it will not take long and I will join you at the royal seat…”

  
She nodded, “Let's go start a war…”

  
He could not help but smile, though they were possibly putting a match to kindling.

_Later that night…_

The knock on the study door was subtle, one Pen expected after sending the invitation earlier in the evening. She took a last look at the two concealed in the shadows before she opened the door. She gestured to a chair, the cloaked figure sat and pushed back his hood, Ge’els frowned as he tried to ignore the jars on the desk.

  
“...Why did you call me here, in secret...in the dead of night.”

  
She let a smile play on her lips, knowing the game was dangerous.

  
“To bargain…” She said. “You are a good Viceroy, you’ve been so since Eriden...”

  
“Get to the point...Human.” He hissed.

  
She picked up the slender blade from the desk. She fiddled with it, watching the reflection distort.

  
“Let my Court stand, We’ve caused no harm to the Aen Elle and none of my court was involved in the bombing…” She gestured to the jars with the blade. “And those that were, well they are taken care of…”

  
She watched him pale a little when he realized what was in the jars, body parts. She knew it would not completely phase him.

  
“I do not see any merit in continuing this farce of a Court. Your king is a fool to let it continue.”

  
She set the blade on the desk and took up the packet, taking two steps closer.

  
“It seems you did not hear me.” She leaned forward. “I will say this in elder speech so you understand fully.” She set the packet in his lap. “I know who suggested Eriden give Fisteck to Auberon, who suggested the potion for the King...the treats...not only to Ciri...but to House Zirel...”

  
Crevan moved from the shadows, he’d been listening, his hands were already twitching on the crossbow, for the threats alone he was owed.

  
“Crevan.” Ge’els hissed. “What is the meaning of this…”

  
In a blink, Pen’s blade was under the viceroy’s chin, drawing his attention back to her.

  
“...My Lord has nothing to do with my finding out…” She said. “...And everything to do with your supposed “Righteousness.” and assumption that I am keeping here against his will. I cannot end you without the destruction of my court, but I can end the lies you told…”

  
Regis slunk from the shadows to stand behind the viceroy, hissing low in his ear. She almost broke with the twinkle in the Vampire’s eye. He was going to enjoy this.

  
“What lies...I’ve told you no lies…”

  
She poked him with the point of her dagger, drawing a few drops of blood.

  
“Yes, of Lara Dorn’s son…” She said. “When I told Crevan of him, he told me to let the lie stand...I wonder what the court would do, finding their hate of the mage was based on a lie…” She turned to Crevan. “...I will let you settle this...and do clean up after...The cleaning staff will have unkind things to say of me if they have to get blood out of the carpets and chairs...”

  
She walked out, she was halfway down the corridor when she heard the first scream.

_A short time later, the Royal seat..._

  
Nuada was waiting for her in their chambers holding out the strongest drink the castle produced. She took it and drank, she didn’t want to be sober for the fallout of their little play. He’d near laughed when she’d told him of their plan, but he would back her up on the choice she made.

  
“A bold move…” Nuada said. “...and a dangerous one.”

  
She poured another goblet, downing it like the one before.

  
“I didn’t just do it because it needed to be done…” She said. “It was for Lara...The papers with proof will be delivered to the monarch if he so much as squeaks about my court...they will be copies of course.”

  
“You’ve become ruthless, I think Lochain would have been proud,” Nuada said. “I am, it is a move worthy of my queen.”

  
She smirked and poured a third, which he took from her.

  
“I’ve been taking lessons, Sarah as the Goblin Queen is scary…” She said. “Not anywhere near Regis when he’s pissed but scary…”

  
He winced as she took a sip of the liquid in the goblet, it was Elvin moonshine.

  
“...We will have a fight on our hands, the Aen Elle will not take kindly to their viceroy showing up with holes...”

  
“I know,” She said. “Thus the evidence… You know I would not act without it.”

  
He set down the goblet, as Crevan entered. The sage eyed the goblet and then drank it himself, shivering.

  
“No, you would not.”

  
He came to stand on her other side, sandwiching her between.

  
“If my Court must fall, it will fall fighting…” She said as she wobbled a bit both steadied her.

  
“Then my love, my kingdom will stand with you…” He said, looking at Crevan. “...Now, let us all get some sleep, we will have a war to plan in the morning...”

  
She smiled at him as he scooped her up, Crevan following close behind.

_The next morning…_

Neither Ciri or Avallac’h expected to be woken before dawn, given their clothes clean and mended along with Ciri’s sword and his staff. Something was coming, something they could not be present for. The hunt had found them, or in later years scribes would believe.

  
“...War is coming.” Was all Pen said. “One I, unfortunately, had to start, and hope to end...quickly.”

  
“The other things you mentioned…”

  
Pen nodded, wincing at the headache she had.

  
“Yes, my Court was threatened, and I defended...Now war comes.”

  
Pen held out Something to Ciri, wrapped in the plaid of her court.

  
“...A gift, one I hope to see again...”

  
In the plaid was a brooch, the same tree as Pen’s, but this had a swallow in its branches. It essentially said that Ciri was of her house, a truth that she hoped would break the lie as well.

  
“...You will wear it on your wedding day.” Pen whispered to her. “A remembrance of this place and the peace you had...”

  
Ciri embraced her, “Va fail...”

  
“Va Fail...”

  
The portal opened and in a blink, they were gone. Pen closed her eyes, so much needed to be done.

  
“Ancesstress...” Pen said.

  
Crevan came from behind a pillar, the temptation to see Ciri one last time proving too much. He had followed Pen to the Temple where the portal had been established. She expected it, with how deeply Sidhe loved.

  
“She did...wear that brooch on our wedding day.” He said and laid the brooch in her hand. “...It passed to my daughter, she was born in Tir Na Lia...it came back into my possession when she died.” He looked at her. “...Ge’els will not speak against us, but the war will still come and we will have to defend our court.”

  
“I suspected as much, it was a bold move. Even though you told…”

  
He held his hands behind his back to still their shaking. He’d done little the night before save scare Ge’els enough into silence.

  
"...I was a fool. I would have used my own child...Lara did right by fleeing. I will have to apologize to the Unicorns...if they ever come back."

  
“No, I don't think they will...” She said. “...We have wronged them too much.” She sighed. “I still have no clue how the archive got the journal... it's not in any of the hands I have studied from that time. Including yours...Dandilion's, and Yennifer's. I even wormed my way into the archives at Tir Na Lia...”

  
“I wondered where a set of my clothes had gone...” He said, amusement in his voice.

  
She looked at the portal, sighed, the war was coming...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fayden Aep Faoileán.: Fox son of the Gull


	37. War horizons, choices in the blance

**A week later…**

Pen stood in the Graveyard, roses in her hand. Lochain’s headstone still glowed gleaming among the dull stones of the older graves. The small stone next to his, her miscarried child. She laid the roses and whispered her blessings. She took note Crevan was paying his respects to Lara and Ciri. A lot had happened in the last week, three more attacks upon both the manse and The Aen Elle.

  
“...You did not have to come with me.” She said. “I am head of the Singers and can look after myself.”

  
Crevan whispered a few more blessings, he’d become her constant companion since Ciri had left. He seemed not to trust anyone within a few feet of her. The only exception being her thorns and the small flock of Raven guard.

  
“You are also the High Queen, you shouldn’t go anywhere alone.”

  
She sighed, “I need no reminder of that, between you, my thorns, and the small flock...”

  
“Himself would have my balls, lover, or no if you went anywhere alone.” He said.

  
She considered a smart retort, but he did have a point. It was dangerous to travel, a singer or not. This was not far from a portal, but enough to make her vulnerable. She knew either Aethen or Rhiannon were in the woods watching. Cullen said behind to watch over the twins.

  
“...Ge’els is bringing the young Monarch to the High Court...He is still salty about our little talk, but he will be respectful...to himself if no one else.”

  
“Regis found it amusing that he could get an elf to piss himself by just being in semi-feral form…”

  
He came to stand beside her, a sly smile on his face.

  
“Would it be better if I’d have shot him...a lesser solution but much messier...”

  
“No, We need to get back.” She dusted off her knees.” I do not relish tonight…”

  
He frowned, calling together all of the factions to find a solution was not going to be pleasant.

  
“Nor do I...”

  
They headed back toward the horses, hoping the road was secured again.

**The temple portal…**

In the shrine, a portal opened and Avallac’h stumbled through, a fool to trust they would escape the beast unscathed. He stumbled against a pillar, sliding down leaving a streak of red upon the stone. Ciri was close behind, the sound of the portal closing drew attention to their arrival.

  
“...Court of Thorns…” He managed as they were swarmed by guards and priests.

  
One of the priests knelt down frowning when his hand came away wet and red.

  
“Go get Lady Thorn…” He said and began to assess the large gaping wound in the Sage’s side.

  
Ciri was on the other, murmuring something to keep him conscious enough to answer the priest’s questions.

Ciri frowned when she saw Pen, she had not expected to avail herself to the court’s hospitality again. The healer tending her wounds looked up and pen and finished quickly. This Ciri was older, a Witcher now, it meant as well she’d sought out Avallac’h and likely grown close. Just how close surprised her.

  
“...A Striga…” She said. “Fool male got between me and it...”

  
She had said the same of Nuada getting between her and an attacker. Though for her it had been a mid-blade strike for her.

  
“...I take it somewhere Elves are not well-liked as well…”

  
She frowned, it said a lot. Their world was changing and not for the better.

  
“As well as Witchers are...” She said. “...He won't have to puke up his guts again will he?”

  
“No, you might...” She said, “Do not worry, it does not look too bad.”

  
Ciri slumped, she was tired, off.

  
“Get into bed, Rest...” Pen watched where Ciri's eyes went, “Lay close, both of you will rest...”

  
She watched Ciri limp to the bed, where Avallac'h lay in Reverie. She had followed wiser heads this time, ordered him into the suspended state to heal.

Pen encountered Crevan in the hall, looking as if he was the one with the gaping wound rather than the scar. He straightened a bit to offer her a smile, but it didn't reach beyond his lips.

  
“...I know I should not be here. But you cannot be alone.”

  
“You could have asked Aethen, or even Rhi to come instead...”

  
“Yes, but it has to be me…” He said.

  
She steered him out of the healing halls, Two of the same person in close proximity had disastrous results. He seemed to breathe easier when they were in the main corridor.

  
“That was stupid…” He said before she could scold him. “But I am restless...”

  
She turned to face him, reaching up to tug gently on one of his plaits. He gave a soft sound, they had not had time together since the night they had cemented their triad. Both had just simply fallen into bed, to wake at dawn and continue the preparations for the peace talks.

  
“Should I throw Rhi at you?” Pen said, softly.

  
He laughed softly, putting his arms around her. He had yet to have an actual intimate encounter with the young Spy mistress but gossip said she was skilled with more than her sword. He knew Pen would not have suggested such a thing unless there was a reason, perhaps a warning.

  
“...Tempting, but no.” He said, “Beautiful as she is, she bites, and I do not relish another bite to my ear...or a Tweak elsewhere.” He let his voice get low. “Though I’d welcome either from you...”

  
Pen swallowed another smart remark, knowing that Sages were not Celibate by any stretch, neither were her thorns. She knew for sure He was not, quite intimately. She brushed the corner of his mouth, a slight tick pulled at the corner.

  
“...And she would not put up with my grumpy nature.” He said. “Not like my queen...I know you are trying, this is not easy for me either...”

  
She took in a heavy breath. She pulled him down for a soft kiss, then leaned into him.

  
“...Would you have said the Same to Ciri if she had chosen to be Empress...”

  
The question caught him off guard slightly, he had never really thought of it. He’d seen that path but knew it wasn’t where Ciri’s heart lay.

  
“If that was the path she chose...I would have stood at her side. Though I doubt as the Lover and husband I became…”

  
Pen knew what he wasn’t saying, he’d have stood at Ciri’s side but it would have been a brief time before the Rot robbed all the happiness of it. He pulled her tighter against him.

  
“...Other Lifetimes…” Pen said.

  
He let out a breath, This was a knot of Gordian proportions.

  
“Too many…” He said, then changed the subject. “Have you chosen what you will sing tonight for the banquet...”

  
“I See Fire…” She said. “It’s from a movie...I think I have the DVDs...I should show it…”

  
He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. He wanted her, but it was too public for his tastes.

  
“It sounds like deceleration of doom…”

  
She pulled him closer, looking up into his eyes. She didn’t know if she’d ever tire of the brilliant blue of them.

  
“It is one inspired by a story arc by Tolkien...”

  
“The storyteller...I have yet to ask Regis to borrow those books...”

  
“After tonight, you might have to wait in line...”

  
He smiled. “...Will you be reading to the twins in my presence again?”

  
He had not heard her read for some time, and truth be told he missed it.

  
She smiled, “Maybe...after the banquet...”

  
He straightened up fully, holding out his arm. There was much to prepare for...

Dain Cecht frowned at his mother’s choice of song. He would have agreed with Crevan, it sounded like a declaration of doom. He knew his mother did not mean the choice that way. He plucked out the tune, humming it as he did so. The sheet music was set before him, the dim light of a candle shining off the reflector behind it.

  
“...I am glad the second song is mine…” He said, changing to strum the tune.

  
He tested out his voice, strumming the tune with it. He listened, as he had been trained. It took him one time to understand the choice. There was doom, yes, but a mutual one if the war started.

Pen was in the healing halls, making sure Ciri and Avallac’h had what they needed for the night. Ciri was sitting by the hearth, drawing with the poker in the ashes. Avallac’h still slept, his hand curled lightly on his chest.

  
“...I could not sleep further…” She said when Pen set the tray down.

  
“Nor should you try...you are not in reverie,” Pen said. “I brought a bit of food and something to occupy you…” She handed her a book, worn at the binding and well-loved. “Read to him...I think he’ll like this one, so will you.”

  
Ciri took the book from her, Looking at the cover, in Gold lettering “The Hobbit”

  
“One of your own books…Lady Thorn…”

  
Pen smiled, she’d plundered her own private shelves for the book.

  
“That obvious…” She said. “Yes, I read it to my sons when they were young, and I’ll read it to the twins when they are older...Written by a storyteller for his children...”

  
Ciri opened the book, the words were in Cintran.

  
“A translation spell, so you can read it better...”

  
“Thank you...Will you be back later tonight?”

  
“Perhaps, but we have guests that will take much of my attention and Patience...and having neither is not good in a healing room.”

  
Pen bowed and slowly closed the door after her.

Pen did not want to think about what she’d sensed from Ciri until she was in her study. She thought of summoning Crevan and giving him an earful about the editing he’d done about his past. She thought better of it when she realized Ciri did not know yet. She sat at her desk and held her head in her hands.

  
“...No, I never asked where or when Ciri’s son was born...” She said. “He only offered where their daughters were born.”

  
She loved Crevan deeply but was going to strangle him at some point out of frustration. She reached down to open a drawer and pull out a dust-covered bottle. It had been in there for a long time. She set the glass down after she’d cleaned it. She sighed as she read the faded label in her mentor’s hand.

  
“...This is the last of it...”

  
She looked up as the door opened, and Nuada entered having come early for the banquet.

  
“Wine from a Vineyard that has long since vanished, you were holding out...” Nuada said teasing as he came before her desk and sat in the chair there. “...I thought we’d drank all of the wine out of the guild cellars when we moved it to the manse.”

  
Pen sighed, holding the bottle carefully.

  
“This came from Toussaint, Lochain put several cases in the cellars and kept this bottle here...Most of it went to banquet tables and private deals. This is the last bottle...”

  
He gave her one of his sexy smirks.

  
“What are we celebrating?” He asked.

  
“Not celebrating...” She said. “A gift...One I should smash over The Sage’s head...I haven’t figured out if it should be Avallac’h or Crevan...

  
Nuada’s smirk turned into one of amusement.

  
“Ah, that explains why Aethen dragged Crevan off when he tried to come to see you a few moments ago.”

  
“...Part of it, both are blind...One is just a little less so.”

  
He took the bottle from her and set it on the desk.

  
“How long after I left did you know that you were going to have Tam, Hum?” He said. “I remember Wink hauling me back between Yule and Imbolc...I left you at Samhain...”

  
“...True, but for her it’s dangerous...She is still a Witcher...Though she has none of their mutations...If she did...”

  
She let the end of the sentence hang in the air. He knew well what would have happened.

  
“Let’s not think of that, only how you are going to tell a clueless Witcher and Sage that they’re going to be parents...”

  
She laughed, she could easily envision Crevan’s face going from anger, to disbelief to joy in the space of a few moments as his composer broke.

  
“I’d love to see Geralt’s face when she comes with her baby...” She said. “And Yennifer’s...He said she was nothing to mess with when it came to Ciri...” She pulled a corkscrew out of the drawer. “I will have the midwife confirm the findings, I do not wish to have false hope...”

  
Nuada sighed, watching her set it beside the bottle. It would have to wait for a while, perhaps the next time one of the other two men in her life vexed her.

  
“...You still going to smash that bottle over his head?”

  
“Maybe, but it will be empty at the time.” She said.

  
She rose, it was time to be prodded and polished again.

The banquet Was going as well as could be expected, it reminded Pen of the hostile camp that had incited the second Human-Sidhe war. The Aen Elle thinking they were owed the right to Rule, the Aen Sidhe not wanting to lose their lands, and the humans hating the Unseen. One spark and the world would burn. The Singers accompanying the Sidhe and human courts looked like they wanted to let it, just so they did not have to listen to the Aen Elle insult them. She did not blame them.

By the time Pen stepped out to preform the hostility had risen. Her first notes, rising above the voices and silencing them. She put all the emotion behind the lyrics as she sang. Crevan remembered this power, Ciri had used it at Ker Morhen to fight off the Hunt, but it had been a scream born of grief. This was the same power but under the control of one who knew it to be a weapon to destroy worlds or a beacon to rebuild them. It held him in awe, not even Lara had demonstrated such ends.

The song ended in silence, then applause. Pen took her bows and made her excuses to depart the hall. Crevan and her thorns followed, sparing Nuada the embarrassment of chasing after her. She was stripping off her finery as she went, she had said her piece. Aethen picked each item up carefully, making sure it wouldn't wrinkle too badly. They found her stripped down to inner garments, leaning against a wall, Keening. Crevan moved to touch her, Aethen stopped him.

  
“Let me, I do not think you will want to feel what she does at the moment....” Aethen said, removing his cloak.

  
Aethen wrapped his cloak and held her, murmuring to her. Crevan stood there, knowing the power had this price. Aethen whispered something and she slumped against him.

  
“...She should not have done that…” Aethen said, scooping her. “...But she had her reasons no doubt.”

  
At Crevan’s confused look, Cullen explained. It did not comfort him.

  
“Imagine using a shield spell to hold back a Tsunami…” Cullen said. “She strained her voice and her will...She won’t be talking for a week or longer.”

  
“She did this before…” Crevan said. “Himself won’t be pleased.”

  
"Yes, and him being displeased will be an understatement. Go back to the banquet, we will see her settled and treated.”

  
Crevan nodded, there was going to be some serious talking once the banquet ended.

Nuada led Crevan from the room into the Solar. He did not wish her to disturb her, nor bring up a painful subject. The elder elf was frowning, the banquet had not gone well after her departure.

  
“...I will not have her breaking her life for this.” Nuada said, pouring some Dragon’s Kiss into a shot glass. “...We are all fools if we let her…” He downed the glass and poured another. “...The last war took her voice and blades to end.” He downed the second shot and winced at the burn. “It will not be her life this time.”

  
He gripped the table as not to round on Crevan, the sage had no part in why he was angry. Their last row had gotten them an empty bed for a few days.

  
“...This war was coming wither or not we would have wanted it.” Crevan said, keeping his tone even though he too was angry, more at his former people than the situation. “Humans and Aen Elle do not mix well...”

  
“No, they do not, as we have found out.” He poured a shot and offered it to Crevan. “...We’ve had ten years of peace, Ten years to heal the rifts…”

  
Crevan took the shot and downed it, wincing at the spicy burn.

  
“Then the Ane Elle came…” Crevan said softly. “...I am sorry.”

  
Nuada poured a third shot for himself and downed it.

Crevan looked toward the healing rooms, it was there...three days from then and a thousand years passed he’d found out he’d be a father. He poured another shot and downed it. Nuada watched him, knowing he was worried about the woman who had born his children.

  
“...What did you feel then?” Nuada asked. “This cannot be easy, the thin line between past and present.”

  
“Joy, fear...Self hate that it was the one thing I did not...could not protect her from...myself…” Crevan took in a breath, "I'd like to keep watch..."

  
“That is usually Aethen’s job...”

  
Crevan had wanted to ask about the Half-drow for some time, but it seemed a sensitive topic with Nuada.

  
“The Night Elf…”

  
Nuada smiled, he’d known the other elf for near two decades and he still felt pangs of jealousy for how well He and Pen got along.

  
“Was the first of her court, long before I granted her the freehold.” He said. “There were things I struggled with...”

  
He looked to where Night elf was talking to Cullen, they were in an animated conversation.

  
“He cares for her more than I do sometimes.” Nuada down the third shot. “Tomorrow we meet for war...”

  
Crevan nodded, He had things to prepare too.

**The next day…**

Ciri did not feel well, it was not the Striga bite. She looked to where Avallac’h was propped up reading the book. If he wasn’t injured...She smiled remembering the Ruby Suite and sunlight shining in his hair while he slept. The smell of food had sent her to the bucket as it came in. The healers became concerned about the third meal they brought. The midwife was quickly summoned.

Ciri sat in stunned silence, the Midwife had taken one look at her and smiled. The examination had confirmed that smile. She didn’t know how to tell Avallac’h, how was she to tell him. She put her hand on her lower belly, the Midwife had said was at least a month and a half along. She had written off the ill-feeling as their little romp in the halls of Ker Morhen. She looked over at him, he would pause in his reading to look at her.

  
“What is troubling you...my swallow.” His voice held concern. “You look unwell, you went with the healers earlier...is anything wrong.”

  
“N-no...its good news.” She said and came to sit on the bed beside him. “I...just don’t know...”

  
He touched her and his face went from concern to awe, then to a frown. He pulled her close, stroking her hair.

  
“We should remain here for a little while…” He said. “It will not be safe to travel...”

  
She nodded and moved to lay beside him, worried at his reactions.


	38. A promise of safety

**The War room…**

Crevan and Nuada looked over a map of the freehold and surroundings. The Sage was pointing out the portals to seal. It was not Ker Morhen, but it did not have as strong defenses. Jareth walked in, setting his pieces on the perimeter of the map.

  
“...The goblin kingdom stands with the Thorn…” Jareth said.

  
Their first declaration of aid. Another came and set his pieces on the board, looking at Nuada. He set his hands on the table, before looking at Crevan.

  
“The Seven Stars stand with the Thorn...”

  
Another came and did the same, setting the pieces closer to the heart of the freehold.

  
“...The Black March stands with the Thorn...”

  
A human came in, set his pieces upon the board.

  
“...The Kingdom of St. Nevan stands with the Thorn.”

  
Regis came in, leading an elder dressed in a long cloak. Dettlaff followed behind. The pieces flew to the board.

  
“The Gharasham stand with the Thorn…” Regis translated.

  
Then an Aen Elle came in, much to their surprise, he set his pieces upon the board.

  
“The Houses of the Gull and Swallow stand with the Thorn…” He looked at Crevan. “My kinswoman called for aid, and I have answered…”

  
Crevan frowned, though he was not alone now standing with the Court of Thorns.

  
“Do you know what you are doing, going against your own?” Nuada asked.

  
He took in a breath.

  
“Yes, we have never been fully of the Aen Elle, not my sire nor I...”

  
Nuada looked to Crevan, who nodded.

  
“Your aid is accepted...”

  
The young Aen Elle took his place at the table.

  
“Where is Lady Thorn?” The young male asked.

“Recovering…” was Nuada’s curt reply. “She will not be attending...”

  
Crevan looked at each, he knew they could trust Jareth. The others would have to prove their loyalty.

**Elsewhere in the freehold…**

Avallac'h stroked through Ciri's hair, they were lying side by side. Her head lay on his shoulder her hand stroking his chest. They were still in a bit of shock, the revelation of a child.

  
“...A child.” She said.

  
He made a noise of contentment, but his mind was on telling Gerald and Yennifer they were going to be grandparents. That was going to be an adventure since he knew the elder Witcher did not look too favorably upon him. Then there was Yennifer, she’d already dunked him into a moat he feared what she would do knowing Ciri had a child.

  
“I asked Lady Thorn to offer you sanctuary…” He said.

  
“...I can...”

  
“I know, my swallow…” He said. “But you have another to care for now…”

  
She traced the vine work on his side, listening to his breath and heartbeat for a few moments.

  
“...And you do not matter? You have a part in this too...”

  
“Would your Witcher say so, or Yennifer…”

  
She leaned up to look down at him, she knew he didn’t feel like he was able to be worthy of a child.

  
“Geralt and Yen will melt when we show them the baby…” Ciri said. “...I chose you, out of all...”

  
He remembered her saying that when she’d asked that Beltane, and again in the Ruby suite. She’d said it in the light of day at Ker Morhan, before the battle. It had been soft, unheard by Yennifer and Geralt.

  
“...I do not know how to feel about this…” He said, admitting it to himself as much as Ciri. “I-I am not ready...”

  
“Neither am I…” Ciri said.

  
He closed his eyes, taking in a breath. Ciri moved to sit astride, he smiled up at her. The conversation would continue later.

**A short while later…**

Avallac’h had asked to speak to the healers, fearing the truth of his own senses. With their confirmation, he asked to see Lady Thorn. Pen arrived still speaking in a croak from the injury done her voice.

  
“...I ask sanctuary.” He said. “For Ciri...and my...Child.”

  
Pen's fingers moved, Aethen translated. The guilds cant would save her voice.

  
“You will not stay with them?”

  
“I have no right...”

  
“Do you wish to be bonded to her...”

  
He was surprised by the implied offer. To handfast he and Ciri.

  
“There are things I must do...this child is hers...”

  
Pen shook her head, The sage was fleeing like a frightened...Fox.

  
“So you believe...”

  
“Please Lady Thorn, I am ill-equipped to raise a child...”

  
~Says a man who eventually raised three~ Pen thought.

  
“I will grant it, only if you remain...”

  
She rose, smiled, and made a few last gestures.

  
“Simply tell the healers your choice...”

  
Aethen looked at Avallac’h before following her out.

**A short while later…**

Crevan half expected Pen to show up, he knew he'd not been truthful about him and Ciri. They had not been true lovers until after the frost, that part was true. He had skirted around the years prior. He was surprised when she was not angry. She had laid something small in his hand and curled his fingers over it as she leaned up to kiss him and put her finger against his lips.

  
“Let it happen…” She whispered softly. “And enjoy the day…”

  
Then she was gone like a whisper.

He opened his hand to see it was a “Honey Kiss” He was reminded of the Beltain he’d accepted one from Ciri. He’d not expected her to even ask, and he had acted when he’d taken her far from prying eyes. His granting of her request...He looked up to see Rhiannon standing before him.

  
“Come…” She took his hand. “I won’t bite, much...”

  
He loved his lady and his king but did not know if he could do this. She was not asking for his love only his body for a few hours. He decided to head Pen’s advice as she began leading him toward the gardens.

It was past sunset when he made his way back into the manse and Rhiannon off to some duty elsewhere. A bath and a warm meal were waiting in his chambers as was Pen. He was not bothered by her presence while he undressed with his back to her. She had seen all of him intimately, even poked about his insides several times as well, and it was only her presence in his chamber. He didn't ask why she'd set up that little...distraction. He knew well whatever Rhiannon’s was doing was in the name of the Court, and with the coming war, Pen could not play favorites.

  
“...I enjoyed the afternoon.” He said, rubbing his shoulder. “...I will be back shortly.”

  
“Yes…” Came Pen’s voice from the table. “I’ll be here...”

  
He padded to the ensuite and slid into the tub, the water was warm.

He scrubbed the smell of grass and sex from his body. He had enjoyed the distraction, pulling his mind from their guests and the planning of the Court’s deference. He dried off and padded back to the table with just his towel. Pen was sitting looking into the fire.

  
“...There is a function tonight, For our allies.” She said. “I wanted you to have your head where it needed to be…”

  
“...I admit my head has not been fully in this.” He said, going to pull out his court clothes.

  
She stood and came around to lean herself against his back, He sighed softly.

  
“...Time does not make the memories any less.” He continued. “I remember how unworthy I felt. I also remember the joy of holding my son in my arms…” He paused as her hands came around to hold him and skimmed down his chest. “...If you keep doing that, our king will be upset that we had fun without him…”

  
She smirked against his skin and kissed the markings on his back before she moved away to let him dressed. He straightened up, dropping the towel as he pulled small clothes from the drawers.

**Elsewhere in the manse…**

Ciri stood in front of the window, they had been moved into the guest quarters a few hours ago. She shivered, the room was still chilled despite the roaring fire. A shawl was laid over her shoulders, she turned to see Avallac’h, who really should have been resting despite his wounds healing.

  
“...I will rest when you do.” He said. “I do not need much rest...”

  
She knew he was trying to make her comfortable at his discomfort. She walked him back toward the bed if being in bed meant he’d rest all the better.

  
“Then I will rest…” Ciri said.

  
He smiled at her, pulling her to the soft surface with him.

**Later that night…**

Nuada decided to hold a banquet that night for the Thorn’s allies. Each of the allies had a delegation of about six or seven. The only exception to this was the Higher Vampires, of them there were only three, Regis and Dettlaff and the elder. Pen rose from the table and went to them as the other delegations were ignoring them. She knew it was because of their reparation, and the instinctive fear of them.

  
“Lady Thorn…” Regis said as she approached.

  
“Elders…” She said, in their language.

  
She knew a bit from long years of knowing Regis and Dettlaff.

  
“You do not fear us…” Said the elder.

  
“No, I have known Regis and Det since I was small.” She said softly.

  
She sensed the movement before she saw the assailant.

She sidestepped, the assailant’s hand sliding past her with the blade, she caught the wrist and struck with the heel of her hand to snap the arm as she pulled it close. She struck with her knee into the side to drop the assailant to the floor, her blade at their throat. The blade intended for her dropped to the floor with a metallic ring.

The room went silent as they watched the attempt on the Lady Thorn, it also showed that she had not lost the edge that had demonstrated to the humans the Guild’s skill. Cullen and Rhiannon reached them a few moments later. The assailant hissed something derogatory in Elder speech at Pen.

  
“...A thousand devils take you…” She said. “Get this...filth from my hall...”

  
She sheathed her blade, scowling now as the intruder was taken away by two Ravens.

  
“That was unexpected,” Aethen said. “And we vetted all of the delegations...We definitely have a leak...”

  
“Plug it, I do not care how...”

  
Those words, it meant he and the thorns could act in the court's best interest without involving Pen and the main court. It also meant Rhiannon could step up her investigations.

  
“As the lady commands…” Aethen said, bowing.

  
The banquet was broken up shortly thereafter.

**The next morning…**

The morning gossip was filled with rumors of the events of the Banquet, Rhiannon listened to them all. Her little trysts were the perfect cover for her to talk to her spies. The sage had been for fun, skilled, and sweet. It also allowed her to clear him from being a leak in the court.

  
“I heard you had some fun…” Aethen said, the code for asking about what she found. “With our Fox…”

  
She smirked, it had been an adventure to get the sage engaged in the act while convincing him it was not a betrayal of Pen or Nuada.

  
“Smart, sweet...not the one I was looking for…” She said. “Lady Thorn asked me to look him over...That tattoo is amazing…”

  
Though he knew why Pen would have asked Rhi to look at the lord of her court, he had to ask.

  
“She asked you to look into Crevan...Why?” He asked. “He’d slit his own throat than betray her…”

  
She gave him a pointed look over her mug, then side-eyed the two generals that had come in.

  
“Just so the others do not think she is playing favorites...I’d look into himself if that is what she asked...”

  
“That is one direction the leak won’t come…” He said. “Others?”

  
“Two are suspicious...I’ll keep investigating.” She said. “And get further permission to investigate the Generals.”

  
He noticed her side-eye, frowning at the two who seemed to have disdain for the Lord Cirdan.

  
“Have a care of the hearts you play with.” He said. Rising.

  
“I always do…” She said.

  
Aethen left with a snort of laughter.

**The next day…**

The war council gathered around their map, navigation points marked on the map. Crevan was helpful in this, as was Lord Cirden. There was no Diridum in this world, but there EMP Generators, one of the reasons the Hunt couldn’t find Avallac’h and Ciri in that far distant future.

  
“...Those should make the portals unstable…” The St. Neven’s general said. “Hard to keep them open...”

  
“No machine that runs on electricity natural or generated is going to function in its radius, it will be fried so we need to be careful what we equip the troops with.” Pen said, her voice still rough. “I don't know what it will do to a spell wielder...”

  
“Make it damn hard to cast...” Said Cirden. “One of the settlements had one, along with the same idea. One of our Aen Saveherne had a near heart attack trying to cast a shield.”  
“Basically they got their nervous system fried...?”

  
Crevan frowned, The Trial of the Grasses had damaged his, he could not fathom being in something like a lightning field and having the same happen. His fingers twitched and he put his hands behind his back to still them. He would turn when the harder ones pulled at his body as well as his facial muscles, but he hadn’t had one of the sharper ones since the healers had been treating him.

  
“...More like disrupted.” Jareth said. “It wreaks havoc, they were testing it when I arrived this morning.”

  
“We have a few humans sensitive to the fields too...They are underground for their safety.”

  
Crevan pointed out the navigation points closest to the walls and fortified positions.

  
“How small are the generators?”

  
“Portable, but not backpack…” Pen said.

  
Nuada looked over the map, seeing there were several locations close to the gates of both the freehold and the Royal seat. He looked at Crevan.

  
“We will put them at the most vulnerable points…” Nuada said. “...Manned by humans, they have the most resistance to the effects...”

  
Pen Agreed, “And non-computerized transports…”

  
All at the table nodded in agreement.

**A short while later…**

Ciri watched Pen come in, it had been a few days since she’d come personally. The armor Pen was wearing, light chain over hardened leather, said a lot about the changes of the last few days. The fact that she was wearing it within her own domain was another indicator of the situation.

  
“...You are safe here,” Pen said, assuring them. “We have emergency measures to keep you that way.” She set the tray down, rolling her shoulders to resettle the armor. “This armor is not the most comfortable...”

  
Ciri watched her stretch, having no doubt there was another layer of armor under the first.

  
“...Magick only shields so much.” Avallac’h said from by the hearth. “One sacrifices power for protection...”

  
“...As one who knows.” Pen said. “I would wear less, but alas my husband will accept me wearing no fewer than two layers of armor.” She smiled at Ciri’s expression. “There are pieces that can be hidden...though I doubt what I wear would stand up to monsters...other than the two-legged kind.”

  
A knock on the frame, Aethen stood there. A frown darkened his features, it said there was trouble close enough for Nuada to react.

  
“Forgive me my lady, but there is news…”

  
She frowned, turning from Ciri.

  
“Speak...”

  
“There was a skirmish within four miles of our outermost perimeter...looked like raiders, with guns.”

  
She frowned deeper, that was not what she wanted to hear.

  
“Casualties?”

  
“Enough…” Aethen said. “His majesty has requested you, the youngest and our guests to be evacuated to the Royal Seat if the defenses are breached.”

  
“He knows I won’t run…” Pen said.

  
“Yes my lady, but it was also the request of your husband...”

  
She rolled her eyes, Nuada knew if she would not aqueous as his subject, she would as his wife.

  
“Take the children there...if the defenses fall I and our guests will follow.”

  
Avallac’h spoke up, coming up behind Ciri.

  
“Take Ciri as well…” Avallac’h said. “I will remain to aid in the defense of the Court…” Before he could protest, he silenced her. “...I do not wish anything to happen to our child, the farther you are...I will follow, I promise Zireael...”

  
“...We have the escort ready.” Aethen said. “His majesty knew you would order the children to the Royal seat...Lady Ciri, it will be alright...my lady has some interesting tricks up her sleeves...”

  
Ciri followed Aethen out, looking back at Pen and Avallac’h hoping she’d see them both again.

**Elsewhere in the manse, a short while later...**

Crevan adjusted his clothing, much like his old but these were of the court of thorns. The black and red standing out. As long as he kept his hood up and did not speak Ciri would not recognize him. He remembered the fight that was to come, the smell of burnt black powder, and the riders clad in the red ring mail of the Hunt. The screams of horse and the dying. It had taken years to drive those images from his mind enough not to have nightmares.

  
“Ready, Sage…” Aethen said. “We have everyone who wanted to evacuate...”

  
He took in a breath. “Yes, let us get them to safety...”

  
He pulled up his hood and fell into step with the others of the escort.


	39. The Hells open

**In the guest quarters...**

Avallac’h looked over the bits of armor Pen was insisting on. The body plate would keep his wounds from being reopened or new ones added. His thoughts were on Ciri, promising himself they would Handfast as soon as the battle was over. He would not leave his child a bastard. He looked at the two swords Pen had provided, these were Witcher blades. He’d accepted them though he was unworthy of the title, even the title of Aen Saevherne did not seem to fit him any more. The brooch at his shoulder, was spelled like Pen’s, bore the apple tree. He had not asked where she had gotten it, nor where she’d gotten the armor.

He fastened the last, picking up the blades. He heard singing, soft notes to sink into the mind and body. He knew that tune, a lullaby for the dying. The healers mercifully ending the lives of those too wounded to fight on or be saved. He had hoped never to have heard it again.

“...They sing it from the first death to the last…” Came Tam’s voice. “One of their own was the first...tried to help remove a pike from some poor soul’s guts...got speared in the back by another one.”

He saw the young male take a hitching breath, he must have known the dead healer...

“Your brother is among them?”

Tam let out a breath, he thanked the gods for small mercies.

“No, he is with the High Court at the Royal Seat...for now at least,” Tam said. “My Atar knows I won’t leave until Atara does...”

“And your mother is most stubborn, like her ancestoress...”

Tam had to smile, Crevan had said the same many times since meeting her.

“...She knows the price of this, and even the coolest and oldest heads of the guild dread the battle.”

“...The blood shall flow, they will have no mercy...”

“Neither shall we…” Tam said, putting on his Raven helm, now the King of Ravens. “We fly...”

They made their way out to the camp, Pen was there, already there before them.

**On the trail**

Ciri looked at her escort, one seemed so familiar, quiet but watchful. Their head was down, but watchful of the trail. She moved to try and talk to them. Aethen quickly noticed and intercepted her, they could not have her knowing of him in the present.

“His name is Myobu.” Aethen said. “He does not speak, until this conflict is over he has taken a vow of silence…”

Ciri frowned, “As you say…”

Both watched her move back into formation, a frown on her face.

Crevan breathed a soft sigh, thankful that Aethen had intercepted Ciri. He found a bit of amusement in being called Myobu, it meant fox in the tongue of lady Pen’s sire. He knew Ciri would not understand that tongue, and he only knew because he’d been told. He continued on, hoping the few hours gap would protect the future.

**The camp, several hours later…**

Pen scrubbed her face with the heel of her hand, frowning. She had not eaten since breakfast and it was well past midnight. She looked toward where Avallac’h’s tent was, the Aen Saevherne was still up as well, no doubt thinking of Ciri. He turned to her and came to stand next to her.

“...Thinking of your own?” He asked, leaning his head toward where the Raven’s were camped.

“Just as you are Sage…” She said.

He reached forward and brushed his fingers over her cheek. She caught his hand and shook her head. He knew she could not give him what he desired, even more so with Ciri carrying his child.

“...I know you cannot love me, nor shall I betray Ciri.” He said. “Would that what stands between us not matter...”

“It does, dear sage, It does…” She said softly. “It matters greatly.”

His free hand brushed back a few strands that had escaped the tight knot at the back of her head. It ached, the hollow space he knew this woman filled and Ciri did not.

He had been dreaming of threads since he had Ciri had left the Court of Thorns the first time. He had seen himself give his oath in blood to the court, the one of his body to her, and then to the king. He absently reached up to rub a spot on his neck, as if he could feel a bruise there. He shook himself, he could not think of that now.

“...another life.” She said softly, reading his face. “A long time from now…”

He stepped forward again, picking her up and kissing her hard and hungry. After a moment he pulled back and kissed her temple before setting her down and walking away.

At that moment, Pen realized the fracture in the ruby the soul ghost had given her was from this moment. It had not been for the loss of Lara or even Ciri, but being unable to love as he willed. She stood there with her fingers on her lips, eyes squeezed tight before turning and near fleeing toward her own tent.

**The Royal Seat…**

Crevan stood on the balcony of the High King’s Suite and looked out into the darkness. He heard Nuada pacing behind him. He turned back inside and closed the doors. His mind had chosen ill to remember that moment, the rash kiss and the tender one he’d rendered before walking away feeling as though his heart had cracked in two. He’d never told Ciri of those kisses and had carried on as if he’d felt nothing for Pen. The dreams always reminded him otherwise.

“...Thinking of other lifetimes, fox.”

He turned to Nuada, who had stripped down to his Braises. He realized the pacing had been waiting for him.

“Painful ones.” He said. “But they are past…”

He shed most of his clothing, moving toward the bed, at least he would not sleep alone this night. He was mildly surprised when Nuada pulled him close.

“Go to sleep, we will have much to do in the coming days…” Came Nuada’s deep voice against the back of his neck.

He sank into the embrace, both thinking on the lady that should have been with them.

**The camp, the next day…**

Pen had not slept well, the revelation and the kiss kept playing in her mind. It had not gone well that she’d forgotten to eat before she’d went into her tent. She had eaten a double helping of porridge that morning, adding from her private stash cinnamon and a few chunks of dried fruit. She was surprised to find Aethen had joined them sometime in the night.

“...You look like you slept for shit.” He said.

“Stop...flattery is unbecoming of you…” She said.

He sat down across from her on the other camp stool. He had seen her like this when Nuada had been wrestling with his own heart. Since she and her prince were now happily wed, it had to be the sage.

“...Its the fox, isn’t it?” He said. “And since he is at the Royal seat, and was snuggled into himself when I left...”

“Avallac’h…”

He placed his hand over hers. He knew whatever had happened between her and Avallac’h it had shaken her.

“...his heart isn’t fully Ciri’s…” Aethen said, reading how she had said the sage’s use name.

“No, it is not…” She said softly.

“Pen…” He said.

She sighed, she knew it would not go farther than that kiss. Of all the things Avallac’h was, he still had a sense of honor. She moved her hand out from Aethen’s.

“I know, he does too…” She said. “Crevan said I could not love his former self...I understand now…”

He sighed, “...Will it be a problem.”

She looked at him if she said yes…He had reverted to her protector. If he thought the sage a threat, he’d eliminate him.

“No, it will not be.” She said. “It will go no farther than it has…”

“Good, you need your head in this...not only for our people.”

“...I will have my head.” She said. “And he will have his…”

Aethen rose, knowing she’d handle this. He had to see his fellow thorns.

**Elsewhere in camp…**

Avallac’h frowned as he put on the light armor. The dreams that plagued him had sharpened that night. He understood now, the price the Unicorns had extracted from him for their aid. He turned to see Tam, helm under his arm.

“I did not expect you…”

“You’ll be fighting with the Raven Guard, to protect the healers…”

“Which camp…”

“Seven stars…” Tam said. “It was the request of one of the commanders, someone other than my Atara has an interest in your safety…”

He fumbled with a buckle, Tam came and fixed it. He noticed Avallac’h had put on the small pieces on properly.

“How long has it been since you were a Rider…”

“Navigator…” He said. “though I fought my share of battles...I never thought I would fight again…”

“Even the healers fight if they must among my Atara’s Thorns…” Tam said.

Avallac’h studied the expression on the half-Sidhe. Tam noticed.

“...I have seen my share as well.” He said. “Hurry, we’ll get cold slop instead of a warm breakfast…”

He knew there would be little eating among the more experienced soldiers, possibly even bets on which of the younger ones would purge first after the battle.

**Several days later…**

The first clash of sword, the pike was quickly shattered by explosions, bombs buried on the earth. Battle cries, from For The stars to No mercy, rang all too soon to be drowned by blood and deafened by explosions. Then the humans came, taking advantage of the chaos of their “civil” war. Sidhe and Aen Elle were soon forced to fight back to back against the human hoard. They had counted on the division between to give them an opening to slaughter them all. Flashes of bloody smoke flew across the field, the vampires taking out as many as they could.

The battle raged, Humans, Sidhe, and Aen Elle died by each other’s hands. In the aftermath, the ground could soak up no more blood so it stood in puddles beneath bodies along with the entrails and other matter. The merciful moved among the bodies, slitting the throats of those too wounded to be helped. To the healers of both the Seven stars and of the guild, it did not matter what the being was as the combatants were so mixed and covered in blood, mud, and gore.

**Several hours after the battle had ended…**

Pen sat on a camp stool, covered in as much gore as her healers, her voice gone. She had to get air, the tent smelled too much of spilled blood and the dying. She wanted a hot bath, some of Regis' mandrake hooch and never to see another drop of blood again. She had seen the aftermath of previous battles, but this was extermination, not war. She had barred the vampires from the healing tents, it had taken hours for them to quell their blood lust. The pryers were being constructed for the Sidhe and Aen Elle, a grave detail had been selected for the humans. A bottle dangling in blood-stained fingers appeared before her.

“Drink...better to be plastered…” The voice slured. “Makes...it...bearable...”

It was Avallac’h, none too steady on his feet. Aethen stood behind him, so he didn't fall over. She took the bottle, downing it, not caring what it was.

Morning came with a massive hangover and waking up near-naked with three males, two she knew the third was a silvan elf with long silver hair. Pen extracted herself from the three, seeking the chamber pot. She sniffed, at least they had somehow gotten off the worst before falling into bed.

It took her a few moments to notice Nuada stood by the table with a mug of the nastiest concoction to relieve a headache in existence. She knew he’d tease her since two of her bedmates were Avallac’h and Aethen.

“...I expected not to find you alone, but three…” He teased as she came to the table. “Though I suspect they passed out before you...I suspect the silvan did…”

She winced as she pulled her clothes together, it was much too bright. She looked over to where the three males were still snoring away.

“Umm…” She said. “...I don’t even remember how we got back here...let alone why I have three in my bed…”

He chuckled low, making her wince. He wasn’t going to give her a lecture about drinking things she didn’t recognize, the headache she had was enough.

“What time is it…” She said eyeing the mug he had his hands around.

“Mid-morning.” He said.

She groaned, someone must have told the guards to let her sleep.

“The young Aen Elle Monarch was at Court this morning...seeking an audience..." He said, rummaging into her trunk to find clothing she could put on quickly. “He looked like he’d spent the night puking...even his viceroy looked a bit green.” He tossed her Trousers and a tunic. “They have agreed to meet with you to hammer out a treaty, a lesson about the humans learned…”

She made faces and cursed as she drank down the mug. Headache dulled, she got dressed before rousing her drinking partners from her bed so they could find their own cures

The trip to the Royal seat was accompanied by much groaning, near the whole camp had decided to wipe out the memory of the battle with a few gallons of various concoctions. The wounded were looked after, they had healers who had the good sense to stay sober. She looked at her companions, Aethen tried to hide under his hood, as did Avallac'h. She would immediately get the sage to Ciri, letting her give him the lecture. She had gotten one from one of the said sober healers as they mixed up another dose of the headache tea.

Pen didn't have to bother trying to find Ciri, she was among those waiting for the Court of thorns to arrive. The ashen haired Witcheress rushed out of the small group to where Avallac’h swayed on his feet, slightly motion sick from being on the horse while his head still spun. A second later they were gone, no doubt tucked into a room.

“Is that safe for her?” Aethen asked, groaning at the sound of his own voice.

“I’ll have the midwife look at her…” Pen said. “But first I need a bath...I smell like a still that has rotten mash...”

“That can be arranged...They deserve to wait for the trouble they had caused...”

Pen could not help but agree.

**A little while later…**

Bathed and somewhat sober, Pen met with the Aen Elle. The annoyance she had due to her headache must have worked because for the first time Ge’els was polite. Crevan sat on one side of her, Nuada sat on the other. The young king looked very green, she had seen that look before on many after their first battle. Ge’els also looked a bit green, more seasoned than his young king but having seen troops shot off their feet must have been the same kind of shock.

“...Lady DeRosin.” Ge’els said.

“Viceroy…” Pen said. “Let us cut to the chase shall we...for this battle has cost us all dear.”

The viceroy looked at the young monarch and again at Pen. It was clear he was looking at the younger male’s paling skin.

“Yes, a dear lesson.” Ge’els agreed.

“...So, I’m going to ask, what will you do to aid in the repair of the peace you shattered. My Singers and I can only do so much to replace the pieces...”

“You wish to humble us…”

She looked at the two males on either side of her and to Aethen who stood behind and to the right.

“Humility has its uses.” Pen said. “It was a hard lesson The High King, My lord and now you have learned...”

She said a quiet prayer when, Rhiannon, dressed as a serving wench set a mug of her favorite non-alcoholic beverage at her elbow. She watched her distribute drinks to the rest of the table. The young king's complexion darkened a bit when Rhi leaned over for him to get a look down her breasts. Crevan's lips twitched, amusement or one of his ticks. She decided on amusement, knowing now who had suggested her spymaster disguise herself as a servant. This was going to be an interesting situation.

In the guest quarters of the Royal seat, several hours later…

Ciri lay beside Avallac'h, watching him sleep. He had downed the tea the healers had brought him and immediately passed out. He'd woken only once to vomit into the basin the healers had brought for her morning sickness. She now watched him twitch as if he was going through the trial of grasses again, but his eyes were closed. She wondered what he had seen...they had fought in battles, fought monsters but she had never seen him be sick like that.

“...You do not wish to know my Swallow…” He had said, upon waking when a meal was brought. “It was as if the Hells had opened up and devoured us whole...”

She did not become concerned until he woke in a cold sweat stiffening a sound of fear. He told her it was ok and go back to sleep.

Avallac’h couldn't sleep after that, the memories of the recent battle mixing with those from when he had been a Red Rider. He’d long ago made peace with that part of his life, but it had returned with a vengeance along with the images of bodies vaporizing from the explosions beneath their feet, limbs shot from bodies. He did not wish to burden Ciri with those images. He rubbed his arms, gods he wanted a fix. He couldn't go back and knew it.

**In the Royal Suite…**

Crevan looked across at Regis, The vampire seemed to know what he would ask. He had brought tea and stuffed rolls to share while Pen and Nuada were taking care of the minor details of the Aen Elle deligation’s comfort.

“...You wish me to bring your past self to the table?” Regis said, watching his old friend “I know you don’t ask this lightly…”

“No, I do not.” He said. “I remember how much I wanted...that poison...the dreams did not help.”

Regis to a sheaf of paper to lay on the table. He smiled.

“You still play that damned flute?”

He laughed. “It got me through more nights than I care to remember...also put my children to sleep too...I am a bit rusty though…”

“...I may regret this then.” He said touching the pages. “Songs that can be played upon the flute. I’ll take your past to the table, there is a large gathering tonight. Are you sure you will be...balanced...tonight?”

It was Crevan’s turn to smile. “Himself and my lady will be with me, I won’t be going far from this room tonight…”

The Higher vampire nodded, rising to arrange to take Avallac’h to meet with the Table…


	40. Past and present

**A short while later…**

The knock on the door was soft as if the one outside knew that there was another asleep in the room. He opened it to see Regis, looking a bit worse for wear. He was surprised to see him standing there, and even more for the offer.

  
“Come, let’s take a walk…” The Higher Vampire suggested. “Clear our heads...”

  
Yes, that did sound like a good idea. He dressed and told Ciri where he was going. He did not wish her to worry too much of him.

Regis brought him out into the court gardens, where several males were already seated around a table Lit by Torchlight. Between two very patient males sat a boy of about fifteen summers who looked like he would run given the chance. When he rose, one would go with him a short distance behind for safety.

  
“We take care of our own…” Regis said. “He’ll be looked after.”

  
A healer rose from the table, approaching them. A slow looking over and a head shake.

  
“You want a fix, don’t you…” The healer was quite knowing. “I see it on your face, I’ve even worn that expression...come a longer walk is in order...”

  
Regis snorted.

  
“You had fifty years to get your head on straight, literally…” The healer said. “Not all of us do...”

  
He followed the healer, hoping the need to be high out of his mind would be suppressed for a little while longer.

**The Royal Suite…**

Crevan stood on the balcony looking out into the garden, on such a night he would have joined the Table, He could not this night without causing trouble for his past self. He’d come out to look at the stars, unable to just sit and wait.

  
“...Crevan…” Pen’s voice came as she came into the suite.

  
He turned back in, thankful for Regis and the healer. Both had been blunt with him on the subject “Then” and now.

  
“Here, heart song…” He said as he closed the doors behind him. “Just taking in the stars...”

  
He was also thankful he and Regis still spoke on night’s like this, though it was to a prior self at the moment.

  
“...Are you ok with tonight?” She asked as Nuada came in behind her. “You look a bit pale...”

  
He smiled, though his hands were shaking. Her hands encircled his, drawing his attention to both she and Nuada.

  
“We are together tonight, that is all that matters…” He said.

  
Nuada frowned. “...Let’s go take a walk…” he said. “We will be back shortly…”

  
He moved around to put his arm around Crevan’s shoulders and guided him out of the room.

They walked for a short distance before Nuada motioned for him to sit on one of the benches. He sat, taking breaths. He looked to see the amber gaze looking him over.

  
“Aethen told me of what happened in camp…” He said.

  
He closed his eyes, he’d struggled with that moment for a very long time.

  
“Those kisses...I was such a fool.” He said. “I should not have done it.”

  
“No, I do not think you were.” Nuada said. “and as for those kisses, rash but not foolish. How many times since you have come to us have you wanted to drug yourself out of your mind? I asked Regis to tell me the signs, more to spare Pen than you.”

  
He frowned, his king was making sure his actions did not hurt anyone. He had been truthful about the encounter at Dandilion’s tavern. He’d been drunk off his ass, but also been fistecked to the gills.

  
“Too many. Our...Guests...do not make it any easier…” He said. “I lapsed in the time between the frost and when I met Ciri again…”

  
Nuada reached into his tunic and laid something beside him.

  
“That arrived for you this morning...I expect you back to the Royal Suite shortly.”

  
He took up the letter as Nuada departed.

He held the letter his mind on the past. It had been hard, that year and a half it had taken to get clean...Traveling avoiding towns when withdrawals turned him into a twitching mess. Camping among the stars when he knew there would be a temptation in the towns as well. Ciri did not leave him to suffer alone, sharing his campsite and seeing him through. Then winter came, and Ciri took him to Ker Morhan.

It was a long winter in the Blue Mountains. With nothing but the Aen Sidhe and the monsters to fight he’d gotten sober. They had gone to the nearest village...truly made love. The spring had been glorious until the letter that simply said: “Find me”. It had taken him only a few weeks to begin to do just that.

Finding her in Tussanint, Corvo Blanche had been another step. He was yanked from his bed well before dawn and told to put on sturdy clothes. The hours of working out and training. Geralt had thought if he was as fit as a witcher he’d be better for Ciri, he did not tell him that he’d once been apart of the hunt and had trained long ago. The training only brought him back to that form. From training, The long day of tending the vines only to fall into bed after a good meal.

There had been little else to fill his days, when the cravings hit, he would dress and put on his boots and go raiding with Eskel or run among the rows of vines until he couldn’t anymore. Gods he missed them, and the peace he’d found there. He turned his attention to the letter, hoping he could keep the demons at bay for a little while longer.

**The next morning…**

Ciri was surprised when she woke in the morning, Avallac’h was standing at the hearth talking to Regis. The two must have been out for several hours, but she had not heard them come in. She watched her elf turn and give her a tired smile, before bringing her a mug of tea. She was worried he had trouble. He must have read the worry in her face.

  
“Just went for a walk...like before.” He told her. “I needed to clear my head...you need not worry.”

  
She accepted this, he had done this a thousand times at Toussaint, wake in the middle of the night to go off for a run or a raid. He’d return in the morning, pump cold water over his head and continue on as if nothing had happened.

  
“I should be going,” Regis said. “I’ll see you tonight?”

  
“Yes, we’ll be here for a while...and Thank You.”

  
Regis left, leaving them to have breakfast.

**Elsewhere in the manse...**

  
Crevan sat in the library, having laid out books on human statecraft and diplomacy for the young king. As per the agreement they had reached. The Aen Elle would pay reparations to the Court of Thorns and in turn, it would teach the Aen Elle king on the politics of the current world. He looked up at Regis as he returned.

  
"...You're still a good male..." Regis said as he paused at the table.

  
He had needed that, praise from an old friend. The Higher vampire gave a toothy smile and disappeared into the stacks. He would talk to Regis at lunch, for now, he had a young student he needed to teach.

**In the Dojo…**

Pen moved through her Kata, slow and deliberate. The battle, its all too quick settlement worried her. It was the screams of men waking from nightmares, some too proud to ask for help or speak with the healers. It was her own Nightmares and those of her daughter. She stopped and shook her head.

  
“...I’d say we should get plastered,” Aethen said. “But that would do neither of us good...considering the last time…”

  
She let herself have a smile.

  
“No, it wouldn’t...”

  
“Too bad Fred is still in for repairs...”

  
She laughed, yes the much-abused practice dummy.

  
“...Wasn’t the Aen Elle king supposed to be here today?”

  
She had watched her males discuss the first lessons over breakfast before Crevan had risen and headed to the Library.

  
“Yes, he’s in the library, Crevan is teaching him.” She said. “We thought it best if there was someone who could speak the dialect to him...”

  
“All the better if he is to understand, and the Viceroy?”

  
“Yes, I have to meet with him to hammer out the details.”

  
“Well, bet bathed and presentable...I’ll be waiting for you.”

  
She smiled as she headed off to the bath.

**In the guest quarters…**

Dinner brought Pen to see Ciri and Avallac’h. The sage was reading while Ciri was napping, unusual for her. She remembered what her first pregnancy was like, she had slept for hours it seemed. She brought the same sausage rolls she had enjoyed, a simple meal that did not require more than one hand and could be spiced to taste. She set the tray down, Avallac’h took one and resumed his reading. She raised an eyebrow at the title, the very same book she’d given Ciri.

  
“Do not get grease on the pages…” She said laying a napkin beside him. “Most of these are for Ciri...”

  
A grunt behind a mouthful, a pause and he set it down on the napkin.

  
“Venison…” She said. “And boar...”

  
“...She will like them…” He said. “If she is hungry, she was not at lunch.”

  
“She might be when she wakes,” Pen said. “I will have the midwife brew up some anti-nausea tea, it should allow her to eat a bit more…”

  
He paused in his reading but did not put the book down. He did not focus upon her, the kisses still lingered between them.

  
“Seeing you fight, I forgot you are a mother as well...”

  
“Yes, it can be easy to forget sometimes." She said.

  
He set down his book. “I do not feel worthy of this gift, a child to carry the very thing I strove to use…”

  
She looked at him, watching his hands and face. She’d become good at reading his “tells” when he was worried or agitated. A tick pulled at his lips.

  
“What makes you feel so unworthy...”

  
“I wanted this, once, with Lara…” He said. “After all, I have done, I finally gained it with her hear echo...It is good that there was no child between Lara and I….”

  
Pen knew that not to be true, but she could not tell him that. She felt a pang of guilt for not being able to tell him.

  
“...I should go...Make sure Ciri eats.” She said.

  
He tilted his head in acknowledgment and returned to his book.

**At the Library…**

Crevan sat in the dim light of the library as Regis moved about blowing out the lamps. The solar lights from the path outside providing enough light to watch the vampire carry out his nightly tasks. He had spent a good portion of the day fielding questions, the young Aen Elle had a bright mind. The old temptation to manipulate and mold the young monarch burned through him. Power was as much an addiction as Fistec, and it had taken him a long time to overcome both.

  
“...I will see you in the morning…” Crevan said softly as he moved to his quarters.

  
Regis acknowledged him before continuing his task.

He was surprised to see Ge’els there, waiting for him. He’d not expected his one-time friend and rival wanting anything to do with him after the last little encounter. The other Aen Elle looked as if he had been washed with white paint. He must have asked for a tour of the healing rooms. After seeing the healing rooms himself upon two feet, he’d asked for a shot of the strongest drink they had.

“...Human weapons did...That…” Ge’els said, dazed by the injuries he’d witnessed.

  
He steered the other elf into his quarters, he had some Dragon’s Kiss somewhere in the cupboard. They would trade shots until Ge’els looked better. It took four shots before Ge’els found enough color to look like a living elf again.

  
“Now do you see why Lady Thorn’s manse and freehold are so important?” Crevan asked softly. “Why the treaties you have shattered were so important.”

  
Ge’els frowned “...They court their own destruction.”

  
“True enough, even his majesty has said so.” He frowned. “...another reason the treaties are important...”

  
The sound of small feet outside the door stopped the conversation they were having.

The knock was rapid and impatient in the way of children. Crevan excused himself and answered to see the two small children. Deir and Nod. He smiled at them. By the looks of them, they were ready for bed.

  
“What brings you here…” He said softly.

  
“Regis said you had the book...”

  
It took him a few moments to register what book they were talking of. He had been translating the Grim’s Fairy tales into elder speech and had forgotten to return it. Leave it to Regis to send the children to retrieve their favorite book.

  
“Indeed I do...wait here…” He said and went into the room, returning to them with the tome

.  
Nod grabbed it and bounced off with Deir following. He didn’t scold them, it was late, and no doubt they had been promised a story for bedtime. Ge’els had risen and frowned as he closed the door.

  
“Who were those urchins…”

  
He stiffened a bit, he had come to care greatly for the two as though they were his own. And to the fact, they were his several times' removed great-grandchildren made his affection all the more.

  
“Lady Thorn’s children…” He said. “They are usually kept out-of-the-way, or are at the High Court with tutors.”

  
He took a bit of delight at Ge’el’s stunned expression.

“There are children here?”

  
“Several, mostly born after the court was formed...”

  
Ge’els frowned. “...They are allowed to roam?”

  
“No, our resident librarian sent them directly to me. If it was anywhere else in the manse they would have an escort, and I believe they did. Lady Thorn does not take chances with her children...”

  
He glared at Ge’els, daring him to make the comparison, he would not have it. Not when it came to Deir or any of the others. The other Aen Elle let out a sigh as he moved passed him to leave the chamber.

**In another part of the manse…**

Pen stood near the window, something wasn’t right she could feel it. Even with the negotiations it had seemed too easy. A shawl dropped over her shoulders, hands as warm as summer set upon her shoulders. She turned, Aethen stood there.

  
“You got a sense of it too…” He said. “We are still working on finding the major leak, we have cleared most of the court.”

  
“Yes, but I cannot pinpoint it.” She said. “I do not like the Viceroy…”

  
Both knew the feeling was mutual, had been since the Aen Elle had come to court so many months ago.

  
“I don’t think most of the court likes the Viceroy…” He said. “Himself is here tonight, said he’d read the story.”

  
She smiled, “He managed to get away...”

  
“Yes, he said he wanted to spend some time with you and the children.” He smirked. “And that the fox should be collected afterward...”

  
She moved to wrap the shawl about her.

  
“I’ll escort you...”

  
She smiled and took his arm.


	41. Know of what you ask

**A few nights later…**

Avallac’h trooped through the gardens, another nightmare had awakened him. He had assured Ciri he just needed air and would not go far. He was heading back, head a bit clearer. He could not wait to see Geralt’s face, the old Witcher confused when Ciri placed the child in his arms. Yennifer threatening him with the moat again. He’d thought that an idle threat until he’d splashed down into one in high summer. He’d walked back through the estate covered in muck. It had taken him a week to get the stench out the first time.

He paused outside the door, Ciri was awake waiting for him. He entered and accepted her embrace. He wanted this peace, the warmth he’d waited near a thousand years for. He would speak to Lady Thorn in the morning, they would be handfasted by sunset. And when they returned to Toussaint, he would ask for her hand from the Witcher and sorceress.

**Elsewhere in the manse…**

Crevan sat in Pen’s chambers with A broach in his hand and ran the other over faded ells of the Court Tartan. He had tucked it away in his lab after they returned to Toussaint, he’d gone to retrieve them to tuck into a chest at the end of his bed. He had come to see her tell her before his past self came to ask the handfasting.

  
“...Will you ever wear that again?” She said as she ran her own hand over the large piece of wool.

  
He set the broach upon the tartan, “If my lady wishes, though I would request a layer of something between my skin and the garment this time…”

  
She smiled. “...Lotion…”

  
He laughed softly, “By my lady’s hand…”

  
She leaned down and kissed his lips. He returned her kiss, pulling her into his lap.

  
“When I am officially bound to you...beyond my vows to the court…” He said softly.

  
She smiled, settling him against his chest while he was thinking of what was to come.

**The next morning…**

Pen smiled when Avallac’h came to see her that morning, knowing what he was going to ask. He was surprised, a place had already been picked out.

  
“The glass garden, she admired it when last you were here…” Pen said. “And the light there is perfect...”

  
“...You knew I would come...”

  
“Yes, I also knew you would not allow your child to be born into the world a bastard either.” She said. “...My guard will stand as a witness, and Rhiannon with Ciri, as will I.”

  
He eyed her suspiciously, as far as he knew Pen and her children were the only descendants of Lara, thus Ciri’s family.

  
“...You do this because we have no family here…”

  
She rose slowly, “I did not say you didn’t.” She said. “It is better that it be intimate and quiet...to protect you both.”

  
“...At what price.”

  
She expected his suspicion. Crevan had been much like that when he first joined her court.

  
“No price,” She said. “You and Ciri are owed a debt. One I hope my actions can repay...”

  
The knock interrupted them, Pen went to answer.

**In the guest quarters…**

Ciri was surprised when a gaggle of women descended upon her. She was poked and prodded, scrubbed, and polished into a fine gown and veil. There was much laughter and teasing as she was taken through corridors and tunnels. Pen and Rhiannon met her at the hidden entrance to the Conservatory. A bunch of wildflowers placed in her hands.

  
“Smile…” Pen whispered. “You’ll worry him if you don’t...”

  
They led her into a sunken garden, there Avallac’h similarly scrubbed and polished waited with two of Pen’s guard. She was shocked, he looked somewhat uncomfortable. That worried her until she realized he was wearing only his boots, several yards of the Court Tartan, and a loose shirt.

  
“It took a bit to get him proper…” Pen whispered. “He wanted to wear his braises underneath...”

  
She blushed, though she’d seen all of him several times over.

He straightened a bit seeing her. He had never thought to see her in a dress, so used her in breeches. He extended his hand to her, clasping it tightly. Pen came to stand between them, a ribbon woven with the colors of the Court twined about their hands.

  
“Today we unite two lives, Crevan Espain Aep Cormhain Macha and Cirilla Fiona Elen Rhiannon...In the mother’s name...”

  
He spoke a promise he’d made a thousand years before, to another that looked so much like the one before him. Ciri spoke her promise, seeming an echo unto the present. Their kiss was the final seal.

The small gathering afterward was a surprise. The ceremony had been mostly private, but the celebration did not have to be. Deir and Nod rand around among the tables, snatching sweets as they went. Nuada kept a sharp eye out and excused himself from a conversation to go round them up before they crashed somewhere beneath the tables. He returned to the conversation, with Nod on his back and Deir in his arms.

Avallac'h had insisted on changing from kilt to breeches, too used to places where cold crept into places unwanted. Ciri was still in her dress, not wanting to insult her guests. His arm was around her, holding her close. He watched Pen remove her son from her husband's back, holding him as they leaned toward each other. He wanted that for him and Ciri, that easy comfort. Ciri put her arms around his waist, leaning into him.

**Else in the manse…**

Crevan sat in the library, opting not to attend as it would be nigh impossible to hide among such an intimate gathering. Regis sat with him, a bottle of hooch between them near untouched.  
“...I’ve not worn a kilt since.” He said softly. “That was a most unusual experience...though I have considered doing so again for an official ceremony.”

  
“Wool against such parts leads to unintended rude gestures…” Regis said. “I wore one for the Forming of the Court...”

  
He found humor in that statement, a vampire dressing in the short garment. Yes, he’d been itchy through the whole ceremony, but he’d had the decorum, not to scratch. Well that was until he got back to the rooms he shared with Ciri, he’d near gone bare ass in the hall to be rid of the itch. An application of Chamomile to the itchy parts made him feel better before he’d put on his knickers and breeches.

  
“…How I envied Lady Pen and himself…” He poured himself a shot. “Until I knew it myself...”

  
“...Do you do so even now?”

  
That was a question. Could he envy them still, after spending the last few weeks as their lover? He knew why Regis would ask, the same reason that the Vampire wasn't going to let him be alone tonight. One never quite got rid of the demons that had driven them into the dark.

  
“I don’t think I can answer that...”

  
Regis poured himself a shot, downed it, and corked the bottle.

  
“Keep that in mind tonight…” Regis said. “We have an appointment in the garden...”

  
He rose, the table in the garden with others. Yes, he needed to be there tonight.

**In the guest quarters...**

The celebration wound down, leaving the happy couple to escape to their quarters. It felt like Beltine, but there was no fear of them being discovered. Clothing led from the door to the bed, and then two bodies sliding together. He was careful until she reminded him she was not glass and a trained fighter. Passion, obsession, need, and love melded into their union. He welcomed the scratches down his back, the feel of her against his own skin. Sleep that night was dreamless.

**In Pen’s chambers…**

Pen lay beside Nuada, love-making fading into spooning together. She smiled, making content noises as he kissed her shoulder.

  
“...You didn’t throw Rhiannon at Crevan again tonight did you?” Nuada asked, as it was just the two of them.

  
“No, he’s with Regis at the Table tonight…” Pen said. “And that was one time, so it doesn’t appear I’m playing favorites…”

  
He laughed softly, though he knew the fox would join them later in the night.

  
“...So he won’t be alone tonight, either way, that’s good.” A smirk against her skin. “And where is Our Spy Mistress tonight...”

  
“With Aiden...I suspect.”

  
“So she is at home.”

  
She laughed softly. “Yes...”

  
“...Would that my Rose come home to my castle as well.”

  
“I am,” She said, nestling into him. “In your arms and his, I am...”

  
He gave her shoulder a small nip before rolling to his back so she could lay her head on his chest.

**Later that night…**

Crevan quietly entered Pen’s chambers looking over to where his two lovers slept. His soft steps roused Nuada who carefully extracted himself from Pen to greet him. An exchange of soft kisses and help in stripping down.

  
“...The Table was well.” Nuada said softly.

  
“As it can be,” Crevan said. “...I was delayed a bit, a new member wished to know a bit more of the brotherhood.”

  
Nuada ran his fingers trough Crevan’s hair when he removed the claps from his braids. He let out a soft sigh.

  
“Come to bed…” Nuada said as he turned away to slid back into the still-warm spot he’d left.

  
He smiled as he moved over to slid into the other side, shivering as his body warmed the sheets.

The morning brought another small gathering, this one more intimate than the celebration. Just the two couples and a few guards. Pen had arranged breakfast in the solar. A tapestry depicting Ker Morhen hung on one of the walls. Ciri was surprised by it.

  
“...One of our Archivists is an accomplished artist as well, they managed to find an archive containing a drawing depicting it.” Pen said. “They did the cartoon for the weaver...”

  
“...Amazing.” She said.

  
“I can introduce you since you will be here a while…” Pen said.

  
“No, I have an artist of my own,” Ciri said, looking over at Avallac’h who was looking at a display of books.

  
Pen smiled. “...And I have my own tinker.”

  
Nuada was pointing out the various diagrams copied from the books.

  
“We should go fetch them before breakfast gets cold…” Ciri said.

  
“Agreed.” Pen said.

  
They gathered up their males and got them to the table.

**In Pen’s chamber…**

Crevan rolled over, half expecting to find his lovers still with him. He vaguely remembered they had gone to breakfast with Ciri and his past self. He rolled out of bed and padded to the en-suite to wake up. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing dark circles under his eyes. His head ached as did his body knowing that it shouldn’t. A hard spasm took his body, the first in...he couldn’t remember and that was bad. He knew the rot was returning, he’d known since the battle. He knew he had to ask the one thing he did not want to from Pen and the healers. He dressed as his hands trembled, he needed to go see Pen.

**The guest quarters…**

Avallac’h frowned his head hurt, almost to the point where he could not think or concentrate upon the text in front of him. His hands were shaking slightly, he could think of no Other cause than the little sleep he’d gotten the night before and the small amount of drink he’d had. He set the text down and rubbed his temples. Ciri came and leaned into him, he closed his eyes.

  
“Come lay down with me…” She said softly. “You’ve been studying too much.”

  
He rose and let her lead him to the bed, arranging himself so she could curl into his side. She curled into him, laying her head on his chest. He slowly stroked her hair, starring up at the beams until sleep took them both.

**Elsewhere in the manse…**

Pen was shocked to see Crevan in her study, looking pale and in pain. She was more shocked by what he asked her to do.

  
“...Reverie…” He said softly. “It is returning...”

  
She needed no other word, she knew it had been a possibility from the Journal. She knew how hard it was to ask for Reverie, the deepest kind that was almost death. She had thought him stable, but this said he wasn't.

  
“...Do you know what you ask of me, what this will do.”

  
He gripped the arms of the chair tighter to starve off the tremors. He did not do this just for himself, he did not need her worrying for him.

  
“Yes, I would rather sleep as death than this…” He said softly. “This morning was the first major attack in...I do not remember how long. I could barely dress...”

  
She saw it in his face, though he tried to hide it from her. The sickness returning, eating away at the man she’d come to know. He had fought it for so long, hidden it from her to spare her and Nuada. She reached out to lift his chin so he looked directly at her.

  
“...I will arrange it.” She said. “And another tutor for the young monarch...I will give you rest...”

  
Crevan murmured a “Thank You” before slowly rising and departed.

**Later that day…**

Nuada found Pen sitting in the window seat of his Solar, silent and staring out the window. He noticed no mug or cup beside her. He knew something had been asked of her, something she did not wish to do. It had been a while since she’d come to the Royal seat to brood.

He came and took his usual position behind her, was then he saw she had been crying. He brushed her tears away.

  
“...What brings you here, and without drink…”

  
She leaned into him, he could feel her sadness. In a distant voice she explained.

  
“...I don’t know if I can do this…” She said, after explaining.

  
He knew how delicate a balance the soul needed to have to overcome the Rot completely. He even struggled with it, near thirty years on from meeting her. It had never gotten to the point she described.

  
“There are few choices for a cure...or to even keep it at bay.” He said. “You know that. Soul Rot is hard upon the Unseen, it is harder upon a Sage. The long rest will do him the best good.” He frowned, their triad was just beginning to work. “It will give him the time to heal more…” He held her. “You can do this, as queen and Lady Thorn, it is your duty to do this...I will guard the door while you do...He has shared my bed too...he is ours.”

  
She broke down again, crying. He held her until she exhausted her tears. He quietly called for a meal, she would not be going back to the manse tonight.


	42. Coming to terms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portmore Lament is by Lisa Theriot, on her album A turning fo Seasons and the SCA bard sampler.

It was a hard few days after Crevan’s request for Pen, when not moving about the manse in her duties as Guild head, she was in her study refusing to see anyone. Aethen made sure she wasn’t disturbed, even more, when he heard the strains of “Portmore lament” flowing out from behind the door. Due to their long inmate friendship, he knew she only fired up her sound system in her study when she was hurting. He’d weaseled from the healers why, since the preparation of an isolation room had sparked his curiosity.

**In the library…**

Crevan sat stood with a tome in his hands, pausing when his muscles were pulled tight by a spasm. He was in the middle of one when the half-drow had found him.

“…I do not need a lecture…” He said as it passed. “I know how dangerous it will be for me to be here with Ciri staying...My choice.”

“I do not know if that is wise or a fool who is running to ground.”

Crevan closed the tome and set it back upon the shelf. Aethen noticed he was careful in his movements. The sage had to be in great pain, with how careful he was moving.

“You’ve not been taking the medicines,” he said, realizing why of the careful movement.

“No, they have done me little good as of late and I do not wish to make them stronger given my past tastes.” He looked at Aethen. “I will not let her ruin herself to see me cured either...the Reverie is the safest way.”

Aethen caught him as a wave of weakness struck. He half-carried Crevan to a chair.

“...You didn’t tell Pen your symptoms have worsened…”

“She knows, but not how fast I am deteriorating.” He sighed. “Do not tell her, I have chosen when...and it will be soon.”

Aethen frowned, he would keep the Sage’s secret, knowing Pen would simply worry more and perhaps try to talk him out of his choice.

**A few days later…**

The day was sunny and warm, like a day several thousand years in the past. Crevan was sitting in the gardens, taking in the beauty before his long sleep. He knew he would be bathed, his clothes would be changed and “woken” enough to make food and water. It was a fitting day, it was the day he’d lost his swallow...

“...I was not truthful when I said I did not know what to think of What Lara did, or of the son I barely know…” He told Pen as they walked through the maze, he had to use a cane now. “...I did not want to think of that time, its betrayal, or the hope it brought. I will have a very long time to contemplate it now.”

“I don’t want to do this, it feels so much like sealing you in your tomb.” She said. “But you have the right to request Reverie of me...”

“And I have. I grow weary, watching memories I have already lived.” He tried to smile. “...What is it you said Lord Jareth told Lady Sarah...Forever, not long at all...”

Yes, it was forever, and not long at all. He rubbed her cheek with shaky fingers, wiping away her tears.

“...You are a strong queen, your people need you.” He said softly. “What is between us will wait.”

She smiled, she’d said much the same to Nuada once. She took his hand as Nuada came up to them.

“The room is ready…” Nuada said. “...We can begin as soon as you are ready, fox…”

Crevan nodded. “Let us go then, quick and clean.”

There were nods of agreement.

**In the guest quarters, that night…**

Avallac’h sat upright, awakened by a nightmare, luckily his movement did not wake Ciri. He slid out of bed. He made sure she was still asleep before he pulled on his clothing. He padded barefoot to the door and quietly opened and closed it. He let out a breath and slid into his boots as he walked toward the gardens.

He was surprised to find Lady Thorn in the hall, a tome before her upon one of the long tables. He’d watched her play with a ring on her finger as she read. He debated a moment before entering the hall. His first footfall made her look up.

“...Avallac’h, what brings you here so late…” She said, pausing in her fidgeting with the ring.

“I could not sleep, and did not wish to wake Ciri.” He said, looking at the tome she was reading. “...I did not know you enjoyed politics…”

“I do not, but I must choose the lessons for a young monarch so they may understand the world they now reside.” She said softly. “He has a quick mind, so the lessons must have some depth…”

“Your mind is not on the lessons.” He said.

She realized she was fidgeting with the ring on her finger. She stilled her fidgeting.

“No, it is not…”

He approached and took the hand upon the ring rested. He ran his finger over the rose and thorn pattern, noticing it was very masculine.

“A wedding band...” He asked, his voice low. “Of one…”

He pulled back as if burned, the words he’d heard on the day she’d first rescued him and Ciri echoed.

~cân y galon~

“...One dear to me.” She said, placing her hand on the tome. “He is far, but not gone. It is what I have of him…”

He placed his hands on the table, leaning upon it. He looked down at the text before her rather than at her.

“...I think I understand the letter written so long ago…” He said softly “...But to take a head…no not by blade, but thought.”

She smiled softly. “...and it is one thought that is enough to crack a heart in two…”

He had no answer to that, he stood nodding and decided it was better for him to continue on his walk.

**A few days later…**

Ciri wondered what was wrong with their host, she’d been happy only a week before. Near silent, she came, and near-silent she left. This seemed out of place as if someone had died. Avallac’h knew but could not share that knowledge with Ciri, as it would lead to more questions. How did one explain that one could be dead and yet not to a human?

“...She grieves.” He told her. “But not for a death. Given time, we shall see our jovial host again...”

“It seems wrong…” Ciri said. “To mourn for one alive.”

“Not all grief is for the dead.” He said putting his arms around her. “If it was for the dead, she would have told us...”

She let it go, but she didn't agree with it. He frowned, knowing that it was so much more than simple grief.

**The weeks passed…**

Pen slowly came to peace with Crevan’s choice. Though she did not like the look of him in such a still sleep but knew he was healing. She went to visit often, trading with Nuada to read to him. He could not hear them, but the illusion helped to give hope that it would end quickly.

**Regis’ quarters…**

The Higher vampire frowned as he went through the newest papers sent into the archives. He’d been busy in the last weeks, between aiding in the young monarch’s lessons, the records that were being sent for preservation in the archive, and his brothers at the table.

“...our little purl is doing better,” Dettlaff said softly as he cleared the papers from a corner of the desk. “...and I’ve come to give you a bit of your own advice.”

Regis smiled as Det set down a covered plate in the cleared space along with a covered tankard.

“I have been in here a bit too long,” he said as Det cleared more space so he could eat. “...You went hunting…”

“Yes, a hapless deer...there was a herd not far and I needed to take the pack out.” He smirked, taking a drink from the tankard. “The crafters were welcome of the antlers and bones…”

“I take a bit of those found their way to himself as well…”

“I am not so cold that I would forget the tithe to our king for the use of the hunting grounds…”

Regis removed the cover from the plate and salivated at the lightly seared liver upon the plate.

“...Just enough so it did not leak on the way here…”

Regis pulled it up in both hands and sank his teeth into the soft meat to devour it. He was slightly embarrassed by how fast he’d eaten and wiped his mouth. Det smiled, but as usual, it did not go beyond his lips.

**The guest quarters…**

Pen brought another book to Ciri, a translation of Fairy Tales that Crevan had worked on. Ones she was very critical of having fought the monsters behind them.

“...Making light of monsters.” Ciri said as she read Hansel and Gretel. “and you need silver...”

“Humans do so all the time,” Pen told her. “What was real for you, is a legend for the average human...things that lived in the dark...We forgot they liked to eat us up...”

“...The stories.” Ciri said. “They seem absurd…”

Pen near agreed with her, a lot of them had been manipulated into unrealistic relationship goals over time.

“Memories perhaps, told by each generation until someone had the sense to write them down.”

The look on Ciri’s face as she read more of the stories.

“They read these to children...”

“They were never meant to be read to children.” Pen said softly. “But some Blessed soul decided children could handle what was in them. Then proceeded to remove elements that told the reality of them...”

Ciri frowned as she continued to read. Pen could see the gears in her head, turning...

~Fought that, killed that, drove that off~

Avallac’h read over her shoulder, frowning at one or two of the stories. He rubbed his side, he’d have fought one or more of those monsters beside Ciri or the being the monsters were based on.

“...I have other stories you might like more…” Pen said. “I’ll ask Regis to look into them.”

“Would you look into something for me…” Ciri asked. “If you can’t...”

“No harm in asking…” Pen said.

“What becomes of Emrys…”

Pen looked at her and inhaled, wondering what to tell Ciri of the Royal line that was well gone.

“Lived, Ruled, possibly had other children. Never let another Witcher into his kingdom…” Pen said softly. “Beyond that, I would have to look into the St. Neven archives, but those are sparse.”

Ciri seemed sad, but she had chosen the path of her heart.

**Some weeks later, the troll market, old Dublin...**

Pen and a small escort moved among the Fabric sellers, buying ells of practical fabrics. Her twins would need new clothing for Court so finer fabrics were also being purchased. She could have easily bought from the traders in the Freehold, but she needed to get away from both the freehold and the Royal seat for a little while. Her escort already had several packages in hand.

“...My lady, we should be looking for sustenance…” Adien said, his swift fingers snatching back his purse from one of the urchins.

“Not used to shopping are you…” Cullen said, behind the packages, he was carrying.

“Rhi does little shopping, but much buying…” Aiden said. “Though I am quite delighted by the outcome…”

Cullen laughed “...We should find lunch though, return to the Inn to stow our purchases.”

Pen smiled. “...I see the fabrics I need in the stall up ahead. Last stop, I already have the gears for Nuada…”

Both nodded, happy to see their queen happy for the first time in weeks.

**The Manse Guest quarters…**

Ciri was domestic in the way of camp life, she took after Geralt in that way. Avallac’h was just as clueless, though he had adapted to life upon the road with Ciri. Now they were going to have to make decisions for more than themselves. Neither seemed willing to give in to the other...

Pen showed Ciri the ells of fabric she’d purchased as a gift, letting her choose which to make into clothes for her child. Avallac’h had commented to the point that Ciri had enough and stormed off. That hadn’t happened in a while, leaving the sage Cursing himself.

“...And I say the wrong thing again.” He grumped. “Would you be so kind, Lady Thorn, I think we need a little time to ourselves...to sort this out.”

Pen got up, yes they had to deal with this little spat themselves.

**A little while later, elsewhere in the manse…**

Aethen found Pen laying out fabrics upon a table. The colors were muted, but the weave fine, attesting that she’d gone to the old Dublin market. A few of the fabrics reflected the theme of apple trees or birds. He knew she’d picked them to present a child in, to a court.

“...Both of them were Royal…” Aethen said. “And to argue over fabric seems trivial.”

“To us, yes.” She said. “Not to them, it appears. Ciri is thinking practical fabrics, very much like a Witcher would for their own clothing upon the road. Avallac’h is thinking like a lord since he is an Aen Elle and their child is technically a noble upon both sides of the bloodline.”

She scrubbed her face, she did not know what infuriated her more, Avallac’h’s disregard for that Ciri would always be a Witcher or that he expected her to settle children or no.

“You want to dunk him headfirst into Jareth’s bog don’t you...”

Aethen always could tell when her temper was short and knew what to ask.

“Yes, if it would improve things…” Pen said. “It’s like dealing with Nuada on a very, very bad day…”

Aethen let himself release a laugh.

“Himself isn’t an Aen Elle…” Aethen said. “He’d find this amusing...”

“...What will I find amusing?”

They had not heard him enter, and he held a receipt. She had purchased the fabrics with the Royal accounts, mostly hers.

“...Avallac’h’s putting his foot in his mouth again.” Aethen said.

“Yes, I heard, but I do not find it amusing,” Nuada said. “How much fabric did you purchase, not that you use your accounts that often…”

She smiled as she moved to embrace him.

“Enough to clothe a child for about a year…” She said. “I thought Ciri should have something nice for her child.”

“I’d say give them some of the twin’s clothing but knowing the Aen Elle it has to be new and unblemished...”

“Thus half the purpose of my shopping trip…” She said. “I did get a few more gears and the like for you as well...”

Nuada smiled, She liked the results of his tinkering projects.

“...I must make something then…” he said.

Aethen snorted and left them to whatever conversation they were going to have.


	43. lessons, love and memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In my Universe, Fey and Sidhe are Pansexual and can be polyamorous with various romantic preferences and tendencies.

**Pen’s study, a few days later…**

She was humming “Wicker man” as she looked over the reports. She was happy to see the young monarch was coming along well with his education. A soft knock drew her attention from the papers before her. She rose to answer and was surprised it was Avallac’h.

  
“...What brings you here.” She said softly.

  
“I could not sleep…”

  
“Avallac’h…”

  
“I told Ciri I was going to talk to you…”

  
She could see it, why Crevan had loved her long before she could love him.

  
“...can I come in?”

  
She paused and nodded, letting him in and closed the door.

  
“...what do you really want Avallac’h…” She asked as she returned to her desk. “It is just not the nightmares...”

  
He stood there, wanting to show some intent toward her but honor would not let him betray Ciri again even in word.

  
“You have said you cannot love me…”

  
She rose from the desk to stand before him, watching his hands tremble and the tick pull at his lips. No, she could not love Avallac’h for he belonged to Ciri and to Lara.

  
“...I have your head.” She said softly. “but it is not time for me to have your heart…”

  
She watched his hands clench, wanting to pull her against him. She stepped a bit closer, his hands relaxed.

  
“...You understand how we Elves love…” He said. “What bonds we form...”

  
“Yes, I do…” She said. “I also know most humans would not understand how one falls for what is within rather than without...and more than one by that…”

  
He reached out, running his trembling fingers over her lips. There was so much desire in his touch, though he loved Ciri.

  
“Say my name…” He whispered. “Please let me hear my name said by my heart...”

  
“Ava…”

  
“No, not that name…” He said. “It is the name of one who I will not be…”

  
She shook her head. “No, that is not yet your name...you know this.”

  
“The burdens of a sage…” He said softly. “…I Should go before I do something more than talking to you.”

  
He turned to stride to the door before turning back for a moment then opened the door and left.

Pen returned to her desk and sat with her head in her hands, wanting to damn human morality. She could not, not without damning herself. A second knock made her frown, she rose and breathed a sigh of relief when it was Aethen.

  
“I saw Avallac’h stomp away…” He said. “Turned down hot elf sex again did you...”

  
She moved away from the door so he could enter, she grumbled as she turned to her desk to sit on the edge.

  
“...More like silver fox.” She said. “But I will not make a shrew of Ciri. She does not deserve it, nor does he...”

  
Aethen sat in the chair and she settled facing him in his lap and leaned against his shoulder.

  
“...I looked in on the fox, expecting you there…” He said, stroking her head.

  
“I needed to catch up on paperwork, just got it cleaned of Lochain’s clutter...”

  
He laughed. “Himself is here...he’s waiting in your special chamber for you…”

  
She sighed as she got off Aethen’s lap. “...bad day?”

  
“I did not ask, but he looked like he needed a session...so I said I’d come to find you.”

  
“And you?”

  
“I am going to the orb weaver, and sweep my husband off his feet, then ensure we can bearly walk tomorrow…”

  
She leaned and kissed him sweetly before she turned from the room to go seek her own.

**In the private chambers…**

Nuada stripped-down, smirking when he began to tie on his loincloth and plait his long hair out of the way. The box laying open for him to dress in the silver bands around his arms, wrists, and throat. There was something about being able to forget he was king for a little while. He knelt down with his hands behind his head to await his lady.

It only was a short time before Pen arrived, smiling as she stopped before him. The riding crop came under his chin to lift it to look up at her. He licked his lips.

  
“Rise…” She said in a low voice.

  
He rose to his feet, grunting when she swatted his side and then the other. He knew she could hit him harder but would not until he was warmed up a bit.

  
“Hands above you…”

  
He raised his arms above his head as she stood on tiptoe to fasten his wrists into the supple leather. She kissed him, hard and hungry. She pulled away finishing the kiss with a nip to his bottom lip. He watched her go to the wall and pull down one of the spreader bars.

  
“Legs apart…”

  
He obeyed as she fastened the cuffs to his ankles and then to the bar. She could have backed him against the wall to the cross but this would put a bit more strain on his muscles and thus a bit of pain even if she only lightly flogged him.

  
“Talk…” She said giving him swats from under his armpits to his hips.

  
He let his day spill from his lips as the crop struck skin, leaving behind tingling marks. He groaned when he finished, savoring the pain.

  
“Harder for the next round?” She asked as she came around behind him running her hands over his chest and the warm marks she had left.

  
“Yess….” He hissed out. “the new one…”

  
She moved him carefully so his back would be to her and went to get the new flogger he’d purchased at for their Yule tryst.

**A little while later…**

Nuada groaned as he was released from the overhead restraints moving down into a kneeling position before Pen to kiss her bare feet in thanks as she wrapped his plait around her hand to pull him up and kiss him hard enough to force him to take a step back toward the door to her bed-chamber. He hissed as she pulled his hair, his tongue warred with hers as he walked backward. He reached out to pick her up as she wrapped her legs around him.

  
“Better?” She asked softly between kisses. “My silver hart…”

  
He made a continent sound, putting her down but letting her keep his plait wrapped around her hand the gentle tug reminding him he belonged to her. He broke the kiss.

  
“...Much.” He said as she released his hair from her grasp. “A bath?”

  
She nodded, “and a rub down, we were rather intense after the second round...”

  
He stretched his muscles and nodded. “...and a cuddle with my lady.”

  
She began to remove the bands, her fingers brushing the hidden clasps to remove them and return them to their box with great care. He took off his loincloth to stand naked before her, smiling as she ran her hand up the black rose on his thigh that blended into the bramble trailing up to the rest of his body.

  
“...No rings tonight?” She smirked.

  
“I came immediately...our courtiers were in a stir, the council has brought up the subject of our marriage once again...”

  
“For what reason this time…” She said as she opened the door to the bathing room, going in to fill the sunken tub. “...we’ve both acknowledged Crevan as a lover...or is that still a factor.”

  
He winced a bit as he followed her, “...One of the Aen Elle royal houses has an unmarried daughter.”

  
“Oh for joy…” Pen said in a low growl. “And they wish to throw her at you…”

  
“My lady queen knows well…” He said moving slowly and sitting on the edge of the rub as it filled.

  
“It seems to be the same broken record, they wish you to have an elvish bride…” She said.

  
“...I do not want another bride or mother of my children…” He said. “The other, I bowed once and It cost…” He touched the patch over his missing eye. “I will not do so again.”

  
Pen stripped down, he smiled seeing the seal of the royal house between her shoulders with its roots and branches twining into the bramble.

  
“Will you be staying for breakfast?” She asked as she came to sit beside him.

  
“When have I not when I have come to you…” He said. “The court can do without me for a night...several in fact…”

  
She smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

**The next morning…**

The solar was the perfect place to enjoy a simple breakfast, a vegetable omelet with some of the spicy sauce Pen liked on her eggs. Dain was talking of the latest gossip, saying the young Monarch had a small following among the females of the manse. Pen snorted at that, if there were any she had not seen them as she’d sat in on several lessons.

  
“...I’ve not seen any of them.” Pen said. “He’s more interested in the books…”

  
“I would not be so sure, considering the way the council is trying to foist a princess on me.”

  
“Again…” Dian said. “You would think they would have gotten the message by now.”

  
“You would.” Pen said. “I’d arrange a meeting of that princess and the Monarch if the viceroy was a bit less salty.”

  
“...Has he asked after Crevan?” Dian asked.

  
“Not as of yet, and I hope not for a while yet…” Pen said. “The healers say the rot has been halted…but the retreat is slow...”

  
Nuada frowned. “...Will you be going to read to him this morning?”

  
“After I help Ciri get some exercise...she and Avallac’h are getting a bit surly with each other.”

  
“...I suspect they will have bouts of that for some time…” Nuada said. “...It is not easy overcoming things one has learned for a lifetime.”

  
Pen nodded as she rose to go see to their guests.

**A little while later, in the Dojo…**

Ciri watched Pen move through a Kata, slow and precise. Speed did not seem the point of her movements. She showed Ciri, had her copy her movements. Despite being pregnant, she absorbed the movements. She was glad that Pen did not think it meant she was helpless or glass.

  
“...This is more of a meditation…” Pen explained. “A warrior is not made fully of strength and steel...To teach patience, control, and then speed.”

  
She glared at Avallac'h who had accompanied them to Dojo. She dared him to make a smart comment, as she was well aware that it was not in Ciri's vocabulary. The Sage was wisely silent.

  
“Each movement performed slow writes itself into muscle and then…” She performed the movements at speed. “...Speed is gained when one learns to move….”

  
Pen watched Ciri try the movements, remembering from her own teachers.

  
~The monsters that walk on two legs are the most dangerous~ She remembered Lochain saying. ~they can think, react and plan...~

  
Yes, she had long ago found there were more two-legged monsters than the preternatural ones. Ciri most likely learned that too. She adjusted Ciri’s stance, showing her where her balance was off. Ciri’s stubbornness soon became clear. Yes, the Witcheress was a skilled fighter but held none of the Warrior’s graces. By the end of the session, she deemed not to acknowledge Avallac’h’s knowing smirk.

Pen soon wiped that smirk off, challenging him to a sparring session. She had studied the tactics of the Red Riders soon after the arrival of the Aen Elle. She hadn’t fully mastered them but had enough to spar with one who’s skills were rusty. It was a good work out, he had retained enough to make her work for it. It ended with her practice weapon scraping against his ribs. He was wise enough to yield.

  
“I yield…” Avallac’h said between pants. “You have amazing skills...”

  
Pen smiled if she’d been wielding her blades, that scratch would have given him a devil of a time trying to heal fully.

Ciri was surprised that Pen could keep up, near Witcher level of speed. She had to ask when both had cooled down. Avallac’h sat upon the bench and gingerly ran his hand over the scratch Pen had given him, he’d be bruised but not much more.

  
“...A lot of teachers.” Pen said. “And a very arrogant Aen Sidhe Prince...”

  
Nuada entered from the hall, his shortened lance resting on his shoulder. He’d changed into the loose pants favored for sparing. He had his “I’m sexy and I know it” smirk on his face.

  
“I was not arrogant…” He said. “Aethen said you’d be here,” He looked over to Avallac’h. “I see you already got your workout…”

  
Pen smirked, perhaps a little demonstration of skill would drive home the lesson she’d been trying to teach.

  
“I could go another round…” She said. “Steel?”

  
Nuada acknowledged her smirk, as he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. He was thankful for the rub-down the night before or he’d have been too stiff to oblige her.

  
“Do we dance with anything less...”

“No, we do not…” Pen said going to the gear she’d brought and bringing out her nested blades. “...Let’s dance...”

Nuada made the lance extend to full length as she drew her blades in a smooth movement, this was always Fun.

The match ended in what appeared to be a draw, but Nuada grunted and reached to wipe away a small line of blood on his wrist. He knew the protocol when scratched with one of her blades.

“Go get that treated…” Pen said. “Before it goes septic...”

“As my lady commands…” Nuada said. “...A good strike...I will see you a bit later.”

Both Ciri and Avallac’h wondered what she was talking about, the wound appeared but a scratch much like the one she’d given Avallac’h.

“My blades are made with true silver and an iron core.” Pen said. “Two things that are deadly to the Unseen. If he does not treat the wound, well I’ll be brewing up a different kind of antidote...It would make what I gave Avallac’h seem pleasant.”

Pen watched The sage turn a shade of green at the memory. Ciri frowned, which had not been pleasant for her either.

“I was not always a lady, nor a Freeholder.” Pen said. “I will not speak of the past, for it is painful for both he and I...”

Her words were a clear indication they would get no more out of her on the subject. She escorted them back to the guest chambers and headed to read to Crevan.

**A few hours later...**

Nuada waited for Pen in her study. The expression upon her face said she’d been asked a question she’d not wanted to answer. It also said she had answered it with as much tact as she could. It was still bothering her even though the question had been asked several hours ago.

“...They asked of my blades.” Pen said. “If I had said more than their make, I think Avallac’h would have gone cold to me.”

What Pen had been was not much talked about let alone acknowledged in royal circles. To be what she was, it meant there was a dire fear of madness. He took her into his arms, held her to his heart.

“...Should must ever my heart stop, let it be by Rose and Thorn.” Nuada whispered. “For I know they shall follow.”

The words that bound them, not only in love. He held her like that for some time before they spoke again.

“...So many knots…” Pen said, leaning into him.

“Why do you think I chose them for our marriage tattoo…” He said. “...I would ask you to consider binding Crevan formally to your court when he wakes. He has kept his vows, to both of us and to the High Court...but he is of your court."

“Only three times to share my lady’s bed, but I stand a lifetime beside her.” Pen said, remembering Aethen’s binding. “Are you sure you’d be Ok with it a second time, even though he has become our lover. Aethen was my closest friend when he was chosen as my Guard...I thought you were going to slit his throat rather than mark him, Royal...”

“...If Lochain hadn’t told me the implications of him not being that close to you, I would have without a second thought.”

"I will think about it…" She said softly. “I do not know what state he will wake in, and as I said before, the healers said the rot retreats slow.”

He held her closer, hoping she would do what was necessary to keep what they had created safe.


	44. No Idle threat...

**A few days later…**

Ciri tried to eat, but the morning sickness was a bit too much today. She saw the worried look in Avallac’h’s eyes. It was amusing to watch him want to call the healers every time she was feeling ill. The healers hauled him out after about the fifth time and threatened with being put into Reverie until the child was born if he called for every little ache. A reminder that she was not glass or some delicate maid went a long way to ease his fear. Sometimes she wondered if his worry went back to his obsession with the Elder blood. She put that aside, he had been an attentive lover and now a worried husband.

  
“…You should rest.” He said. “We have a long time ahead of us...”

  
“Yes.” She said, going up to him. “As long as you do so with me.”

  
That would bring a smile to his face, spooning together drifting to sleep.

**Pen’s chambers…**

Pen stretched, looking up at the rafters. Nuada lay still sleeping beside her. It was always good when he could stay for a little while. She got up, leaving her husband sleeping. The table next to the hearth was set for two with soup, bread, honey butter, and her favored ginger drink. Aethen was sitting near the hearth with his own bowl. He must have come in a short while ago while they slept.

  
“...Beef Barely…” He said. “...Must have been some cheaper cuts at the butcher’s this week, or the cook felt a good soup was in order...”

  
Pen smiled and sat down, serving up a portion of the soup.

  
“...The healers are finding much amusement in Avallac’h.”

  
“I would too, but Ciri is becoming very annoyed, and she has her doubts still I think.”

  
“Were you not when Himself turned his attention to you during your pregnancy?”

  
Pen smiled remembering the ups and downs they had when she’d been expecting Tam.

  
“With Tam, it was an adventure for both of us. You were present for most of it…” Pen said. “I would tell her to appreciate it...”

  
“Did you miss it with Dain and the Twins?”

  
She frowned a bit remembering what had happened during that time.

  
“...I’d half expect that question from Ciri...”

  
“Fair enough.” He said. “I bring news from our Spy Mistress...”

  
Pen smiled, there had been a fight two days prior to seemingly over Rhiannon.

  
“...The two combatants were the two suspected leaks.” He continued. “Arresting them was...Fun. They near shit their pants when we showed the evidence of their crimes. One sang rather quickly...Seems Ge’els isn’t the only one who wants to know the weakness’ of our court.”

  
“I know about the Viceroy, we will never have an easy time interacting..” Pen said. “Its the one that doesn’t sling words like daggers that bothers me. Daggers I can dodge...”

  
“Yes, from what we gathered, it is because you are a woman rather than the population of our environs. I almost let Rhi castrate him, but she declined in favor of letting the Court do it.”

  
“Few things change…” Pen said, slathering a piece of bread with the sweet butter. “I hope the leak is significantly plugged.”

  
“Yes, we’ve found no more.” He said as he got to his feet. “I’ll leave you to have some more time with himself...”

  
She smiled at his departure, as Nuada had awakened and come to share dinner.

**Two days later…**

Pen knew something was wrong when she saw half a dozen healers in the halls on the way to the Guest Quarters. She increased her speed, seeing them gathered outside one room. Dain met her outside Ciri and Avallac’h’s room.

  
“What happened?” She asked, near gagging on the smell emanating from the room. “Gods...”

  
Dain offered her the small jar of the ointment the bone keepers used when recovering corpses. She rubbed a bit under her nose to block the worst of the smell.

  
“Navigator, and an assassin…” Dain said. “Looking for a random target most like, and considering the EMP emissions around the manor a stupid act.” He sighed. “Ciri and the Sage are unhurt...It is more the assailants. The Navigator...well...whats left of him.”

  
Pen frowned as she entered the room, the whole near ruined by the splatter of blood and bone. She reminded herself that she was just as capable of doing this to another. She was thankful they had managed to get Ciri out of the room before she actually saw what had happened.

Ciri was still sitting in shock, she had screamed at the sight of the intruders. Pen reached her, still splattered with blood. She’d taken stock of the room prior to seeing to her guests, the memory made her turn a bit green. She knew the elder power channeled through voice could do...that. It had been a while since she'd seen it happen and that had been for an execution.

  
“Get Lady Ciri cleaned up…” Dain ordered. “Avallac’h would you accompany me, I would like you to talk to our guard captain...To arrange a tighter guard...”

  
The Sage wasn’t going to leave Ciri’s side. Removing her from him would prove even messier.

  
“Better bring Aethen here…” Pen said. “He’s not going to move...not when there is still a possible threat.”

  
Dain looked over them over his lenses and agreed with his mother.

**Several hours later…**

Getting her guests resettled had taken most of Pen's day. Now she sat in her study, looking over the map of navigation points inside her manse. Aethen entered and set two shot glasses on the desk, and poured something that glowed green into them.

  
“Take the shot…” He said.

  
She made a face before she downed it. It tasted nasty.

  
“What the hell was that?”

  
“...Cucumber something or other.” He said. “I asked a few of the students...came from their still.”

  
She pulled the bottle of Dragon’s Kiss from her desk and poured a shot of that to get the nasty taste from her tongue.

  
“...They need to work on that...and pray do tell why you brought me this nasty concoction?”

  
“Thought it would match your mood.” He said. “It was this or sling you on a horse to bring you to himself...Though I could just as...”

  
She lobbed one of the squishy balls she kept on her desk at him. His laughter was what she needed.

  
“If you did that, well I don’t think Tin would end up very happy.”

  
Aethen smiled, reminded of the vow he took. They were close enough that they could tease about it, save for the few stolen moments in the temple, he had never crossed the line. She stood up, head too much upon the most recent incident.

  
“Let’s go, I think The Orb Weaver is calling...”

  
He snorted, at least there would be fewer Orcs in it by night’s end.

Morning arrived with Pen wishing to borrow Dain’s lenses having woken up between Tindel and Aethen. The two had a bit of fun teasing her but assured her they had all fallen in at the close of the tavern. She was enjoying breakfast when the guards came banging on the door. It appeared there was a guest at the manse that did not wish to be ignored. She had three guesses as to who, but only one came to mind.

  
“...Ge’els…” She hissed as she set foot over the threshold.

  
“...He seemed annoyed when we told him you were unavailable…” Tam said, free of his helm and gauntlets.

  
“Like he’s never gone and done something stupid…” Pen said, still trying to see without wincing. “...It was either stupid or dangerous...and we both know which one your father would gripe about.”

  
“Atar might still grumble about this. Get a bath and some of that nasty headache stuff, I’ll delay our unwelcome guest a bit longer.”

  
She smooched her son on the cheek and headed to be presentable.

Tam had arranged for the Viceroy to meet his mother in her office rather than her study. It clearly stated she meant business rather than receiving him as a guest Ge’els looked her over with a frown, clear he had not wanted to deal with her. With Crevan in Reverie he would have no choice.

  
“...Where is Crevan…” He demanded. “He is Lord of this farce of a court…”

  
His words said he was now holding her gender against her as well as her race. She could hear Creavan’s voice reminding her that some views could not be altered.

  
“He has been...Ill.” Pen said, weighing her words with care. “I thought it best that he retire for a short while...He is unharmed.” She frowned. “You are here for more than the “Concern” for a “friend” So cut to the chase.”

  
“I was informed there was...An incident with a Navigator.” He said. “A most unfortunate one…”

  
She frowned deeper, It said she definitely had a leak in her court. She was glad she had given her thorns the freedom to act.

  
“Yes, strange that…” She said. “Considering the manse is warded against unauthorized portals.” She fiddled with the ink pen on her desk, the sharp nip an easy weapon. “...My guests acted in self-defense, there wasn’t much left...”

  
The Aen Elle leaned forward, tilted his head slightly. She knew that look, a threat was forthcoming.

  
“I know what you were Lady Thorn…” He threatened.

  
She heard his implied threat to expose her to the other courts. He did not know that her allies knew exactly what she had been and still was at her king’s command. Nuada had to be open with them in order for her to be formally recognized as High Queen. He must think her a mere consort rather than a ruler in her own right.

  
“Then you know very well what I am capable of.” She hissed. “...The fact that his majesty is still alive should tell you the lengths I will go to defend those dear to me. Now think of what I will do to defend my people...”

  
“I will have...”

  
Pen slammed the ink pen into the desk, nip first to emphasize her point. She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her, not in her own bailiwick. She watched his eyes go from her to the nib embedded in the desk and back to her.

  
“...Do have a care about what you say...you are not in your court but in mine. You should know there are more deadly things in this court than a Higher Vampire...Ones I assure you are as old as you and just as...Refined.”

  
She reached to the shelf, a “Lady Sarah” rose was in a small vase. It would do perfectly. The poor bastard wouldn’t know the difference since he’d never get near the private courtyard where the actual bestial roses grew.

  
“...Take this, for example, used to grow around towers where they held princesses...it grows on the bones and blood of princes. I have several of these roses, and I like to feed it arrogant assholes...so do take care not to be one...or you will know them intimately...”

  
He was watching the way she was handling the rose, casually like the thorns did not matter.

  
“...Idle threats...”

  
She reached into a drawer and plunked the skull of the last victim of the roses on the desktop.

  
“This was the last one to run into them, made for some nice blooms.” She played with the rose in her hand. “This is one of them…”

  
She watched him pale a bit, he didn’t believe her yet. It also indicated he had come to make threats rather than concern for one of his people. She reached forward and tucked the bloom into his tunic. She watched his eyes grow wide, but no other indication of distress.

  
“Think upon it if you feel like threatening me again…” She rose completely and headed out effectively ending the meeting.

Aethen watched her stomp out of the office. He knew the Viceroy had pissed her off. He knew better than to get in her way. The fact she looked like she still had a hangover did not help matters.

  
“...Get that arrogant ass out of my manse and out of the freehold…” She hissed as she passed him.

  
“Yes, Lady Pen…” He said as he went into the office to remove Ge’els from the premises.

**At the high Court…**

When Nuada heard of it a short while later, he laughed. He knew well the difference between the blooms, as did most of his court. Those that didn’t usually found themselves with some nasty thorn pricks and ill from the venom. He noticed the Viceroy’s face, he was insulted that he’d brushed off Pen’s threat in a trivial manner. He decided to drive the point of her threat home.

  
“They were a gift from Lord Jareth when she established her court.” Nuada said. “and I should make you aware you threatened my Queen...”

  
“You should learn to control her…” Ge’els hissed. “Perhaps a collar and leash...”

  
Nuada smirked. "I learned long ago never to attempt such, either as my subject or my wife."

  
The viceroy's frown told of more trouble to come. The kind of trouble he wished to head off before another battle came to the courts.


	45. not a Cure-all

**A few days later...**

Pen oversaw the seamstress, the making of baby clothes with the motifs she’d chosen. Ciri was slightly stunned at all of it, the fine fabric seemed so soft to her fingers. Pen had quietly sent inquiries to the markets, and soon a cradle intricately carved with apple blossom and swallows appeared in the Guest quarters. Pen did not often flaunt that she was High Queen, but for Ciri she would do so.

  
“...A gift.” Pen said laying a light pad of wool and a blanket into the bottom. “for a kinswoman...”

  
Ciri was in awe, she could never have afforded this with the wages of a Witcher.

  
“...You did not have to…” Ciri said. “We would have found…”

  
“Nonsense, it will give Avallac’h something to do while you sleep…” She smirked. “When you can...”

  
Ciri smirked, her sage was acting like she was glass again. Pen could not blame him, but she knew well that such attention could grate upon the nerves.

  
“Enjoy his attention.” Pen said. “I enjoyed such with my eldest. Though there were times I nearly hit my lover over his head for being too clingy.”

  
She wasn’t going to tell Ciri that she’d done more than swat Nuada during her pregnancy with Tam.

  
“He thinks me glass, though I’ve proved myself naught time and again,” Ciri said.

  
Pen stood up from kneeling beside the cradle, smiling as she did so.

  
“It is instinct, males get very much “Protect my mate and young.” when we are expecting children. It is no different for Elves, even more since fertility is so tricky for them…”

  
Ciri seemed worried, another thing Pen did not blame. She knew well how Avallac’h had been, how Nuada had been prior to meeting them.

  
“...Before his thoughts were to bring the Elder Blood back to the Aen Elle...Now he will give his life to keep it from them…”

  
Pen was not too sure it was all too altruistic of him. She knew some attitudes did not change.

  
“Yes, I believe he would.” Pen said. “with every last breath.”

  
It must have been the way she’d said it because Ciri went quiet. She must have thought Pen was saying Avallac’h would die defending their child.

  
“...I do not mean it will be literal.” Pen said, realizing how she sounded.

  
Ciri was still visibly shaken and found some other subject to talk of.

**Two days later…**

Avallac’h asked to speak to Pen privately, meeting her in the gardens. He looked as if he’d discovered a skeleton in his wardrobe that morning. Something in the last few days had shaken him. This was not an attempt to get close to her, but he was asking for her help.

  
“...I have something to ask if you cannot answer I will inquire no more of it.”

  
“Ask...” Pen said. “There is no harm in asking…”

  
He hesitated, his fingers were twitching. She could see this was a conversation he did not want to have.

  
“...Tir Na Bea Arainne, does it still exist?”

  
She knew he meant where Lara was buried. He wanted to see her, perhaps to ask for permission to love Ciri or perhaps her.

  
“Yes, they have not found it yet...but it has been long neglected. My Predecessor is buried there, the child I miscarried is there.” She said. “I go every year to tend their graves, but I cannot tend them all…”

  
He put his hands behind his back and turned from her gaze. The spasm must have been a hard one. It was a few moments before he turned back to look at her.  
“I wish to go there, but cannot find the portal...”

  
Pen smiled. “I will take you, we have special wardings that normally keep them from being opened on the Manse grounds.”  
He nodded, hoping the journey would not be long.

**The next day…**

Tir Na Bea Arianne was much like it had been left, but much had fallen to the nature of time. There were paths and statues still, but the grave markings had faded. Pen knew where Avallac’h wanted to go within, to Lara’s statue. She left him in peace to say what he would to her ghost. She went to Lochain’s grave, a small nosegay of daisies lay before it. Again the mysterious visitor had come and left flowers.

  
“...I miss you...” She said as she pulled a few vines creeping up the stone.

  
It was quiet until Avallac’h came seeking her, finding her before the two gravestones. She rose and dusted herself off.

  
“Your predecessor?” He asked.

  
“Yes, He died defending me and my children.” She said. “I did not know about this place until after he passed. I did not know he’d buried my miscarried child here as well. I found a lot out about him after his passing...”

  
“...You mourn him still.” He said curiously.

  
She paused in removing the vines from her child’s grave.

  
“Yes, it has been near two decades.” She said. “there are days I stumble across something of his...some piece of drivel...a missive he wrote...” She smiled. “...I am still trying to organize his files.”

  
“...You have no easy task…”

  
She looked at his profile, an echo of the male she’d come to love. She gripped the grass tightly.

  
“No. Nor have you.” She said.

  
He moved a bit away, knowing that line between them had to stand.

  
“With this child...What will become…”

  
She took a breath, making herself relax. His hand hovered close before he let it fall.

  
“Not all knowledge brings joy, as a sage you should know that well.”

  
“I do, but I have been blind to it as well.” He said. “...I have had a long road to this, and a long road to go.” He knelt at the small stone beside Lochain’s “How many will I watch be laid to rest here before I find my own...”

  
“I could answer, but that would taint the choices you will make.” Pen said. “We should get back...”

  
“Yes, we should...” He said and stood.

  
They departed, leaving the graveyard to its ghosts.

**A few days later...**

Ciri went looking for Pen and found her in the still room brewing bases for tinctures. She ushered Ciri out, lest a mess be made. Smells could trigger nausea easily.

  
“Where did you go...” Ciri asked. “Avallac’h has been brooding since you returned.”

  
“To Tir na Bae Arianne,” Pen said. “He wished to go, but the portals do not work here...mostly. So I brought him...What he said to Lara’s ghost I do not know, I had a feeling it was very private, so wandered to speak to my dead...”

  
“He has been very quiet, It always worries me when he is...” Ciri said. “He always assures me he’s fine, but he hasn’t been to bed in the last few days…”

  
Insomnia didn’t worry her, she’d seen Crevan crawl from bed to sit at the hearth and read until sleep returned. She paused and needed to ask.

  
“...Has he been in the garden, there are those who have faced the same that gather there...”

  
“No, I would be happy if he was...” she said. “He used to go for runs at Corvo Blanca when the dark would fill his head...”

  
Pen knew something was off, as Regis said he’d stopped coming to the nightly gatherings.

  
“Should I attempt to talk to him?”

  
“If you would, you are the closest to another sage...”

  
There were several Aen Saevheme in the court, but they were Aen Sidhe. Pen agreed and said she would come at dinner.

**Later that evening…**

Dinner found Pen at Ciri and Avallac’h’s quarters. The Sage answered, looking very haunted. She set the food she’d brought down, watching to see if he would eat. He took and ate only a few morsels before pushing away and resuming his seat at the hearth. Pen moved to sit by him.

  
“Where are you putting your roots, apple tree...” She asked.

  
That sort of snapped him out of his brooding. He turned to her, still looking haunted.

  
“...You use her words to ask me if my head is addled.” He said with grim humor. “No, Lady Thorn, my head is far from addled...”

  
Ok, another tactic. She hauled off and gave him a left hook.

Ciri’s scream and a shock wave eventually separated them. Pen, her lip split, grinning like a madwoman at Avallac’h’s scowl. The sage’s eye was blackening and he’d have a good one on his jaw. Both would be sore later. The room looked like a tornado had hit it. Ciri looked at them both, she’d asked Pen to bring him out of brooding not incite an all-out brawl.

  
“...Well, I have your attention.” Pen said, wiping blood from her lip. “Come to the garden or I’ll haul you there myself...” She got to her feet. “I will see myself out...”

  
It would be a few days before either would talk to her.

Pen found her way to Regis’ quarters. The higher vampire held out a shot glass, telling her to drink it first, then handed her a rag soaked with witch hazel. Her nose was bleeding as well. He had a grim smile when she told him what she’d done.

  
“...That was defiantly out of the box.” He said. “...I never would have thought a left hook a cure for brooding.”

  
She wiped the blood from her nose, she had a headache as well.

  
“He was a warrior long before he settled into being a sage.” Pen said, holding the rag to her lip. “...And I had his full attention, for a while at least. My head is still ringing from Ciri’s scream.”

  
“If he’d thought to magick you...more than your head would be ringing...” Aethen said as he stood in the doorway. “...That was stupid.”

  
She should have expected the half-elf to find her.

  
“It got something out of him, now didn’t it.” She said, trying to lighten the mood.

  
“Yes, a long list of elven profanity...” Aethen said. “He’s very creative in describing you...”

  
“I have an appointment,” Regis said. “So do please take your scolding elsewhere...”

  
Aethen laughed, “Ok...come my lady...”

  
Pen followed him out.

It was a few days later that Nuada found out. He came to see Pen, unhappy that she had resorted to a fight. He frowned when he saw her, lip still scabbed and a few bruises as she undressed. He would have censured Avallac’h if it had not been equally her fault as well.

  
“...Your fists are not a cure-all...” He said, looking at the bruising and her healing lip. “Though I would have loved to see the look on his face when you hauled off and decked him.”

  
She tried to smile, but it still hurt. She could almost hear Crevan deadpanning that it was not amusing that she’d attempted to beat the shit out of him to get his attention.

  
“...It would have been better if I’d taken him to the Orb Weaver...”

  
“And get an ear full from Tindel...no.” He said when she winced from his touch on her shoulder. “At least you were smart enough not to let yourself stiffen up.”

  
“...It still hurts...” She said. “I got him talking to the garden crew again, that is something.”

  
“Yes, that is good,” Nuada said. “Just do not do it again...”

  
She hoped she wouldn’t have to.

**A few days later…**

A report appeared on Pen’s desk, along with a letter addressed to Crevan. She tucked the letter into a locked drawer for when he came out of reverie. The messenger also had a letter for her as well, one that was waiting on a reply. She promised one and sat down to read it.

The letter informed her that the House of the Gull was going to reveal itself to the Aen Elle and Aen Sidh courts, to break the lie that had stood for so long. She took in a breath as the letter also informed her that there was some unrest among its members over the decision and as a Scion of the house she was to be informed as was the house of the swallow. She set it down, wondering if this was how Crevan felt upon reading the letters that came to him.

She did not notice the fine square of paper until she set the letter down. Within was an invitation, one that made her weary. She was being asked to attend the announcement to the Courts, not knowing she would be attending as Nuada’s consort. She frowned, it also asked for her discretion as well. She set both aside, and pulled out a piece of paper, and penned her reply.

**A few weeks later…**

Pen frowned as she moved through the ballroom, She’d been prodded into “queen’s clothes” for this. She wondered if the House of the Gull was going to be present themselves. She looked about for one who resembled Avallac’h but could not find anyone even close to his visage. She was beginning to wonder if it was a trick as Crevan had feared.

  
“...Ah, Lady Thorn…”

  
She spun her fingers ready to flick her stiletto into her hand. A tall figure stood there holding their hands up in a gesture to show they were unarmed.

  
“Forgive me, gariníon. I should have informed you of the glamour we have used for so long.”

  
The form shimmered, and a near mirror of Crevan stood before her.

  
“Lord Fayden…” She said softly, using the name he’d given her once before.

  
“...We are kin, you need not be so formal.” He frowned, reaching to lift her chin. “Do I look that much like my sire…”

  
“A near mirror.” She said. “How long until you announce yourself to the High King?”

  
“Shortly…” He moved his hand. “You do not look happy of it.”

  
“Of course I am not happy of it...the whole balance that has stood will shatter…” She said keeping her tone even. “And you will give the Aen Elle another reason to hate…”

  
“We have taken that into account…” He said. “It is why we have chosen now…”

  
Aethen must have sensed her apprehension from where he was and made his way over to her.

  
“Lady Thorn…” Aethen said. “His Majesty requires your presence…”

  
Pen watched Fayden’s face darken when the half-elf came close. It appeared some predigests still stood. She had a feeling that what power she wielded was why he was not treating her with disdain.

  
“...Forgive me Lord Fayden, my king calls…” Pen said.

  
He acknowledged her statement and moved back into the whirl of the ball.

Aethen escorted Pen to a quiet place where Nuada was waiting. He had felt her unease as well, though not as acutely as the half-elf. He wanted to know what she had gathered. Lord Fayden hadn’t noticed she had been tapping her foot the whole time he’d spoken. That particular truth spell was second nature to her by now and often did not realize she was casting it until the one she was talking to walked away.

  
“...I do not who shall be worse...my own kin or the Aen Elle…” Pen said softly. “...I’d sooner trust a viper.”

  
“At least the viper would only attack if threatened,” Aethen said. “I think the house of the gull is much the same as any house…”

  
“Too eager for power…” Nuada said. “I doubt your kinsman was aware you could have sent him up in flames like a dry tree...”

  
“Those notes are harsh upon the voice.” She said. “If they prove true to their origins, I’ll settle for a crotch fungus…” She saw the look on their faces. “A little jock itch won’t hurt them…”

  
Nuada side-eyed her. “...You are an evil human.”

  
She smirked, she knew how immaculate most elven lords liked to present themselves. An itchy and smelly fungus would be an embarrassment.

  
“I am surprised you have not done that to Ge’els…” Aethen said.

  
“It would be a waste of a good fungus…” Pen said. “And he deserves ball rot…”

  
Both gave her a look as though their own balls were aching at that statement.

For most of the evening, Pen tried to hold her temper and minded her tongue. She would have rather have driven her dagger into black hearts. When her temper was on a low boil, The house Faoileán decided to announce its presence and chaos descended.

The sound of gasps, shouts and general noises of disbelief rang through the hall. She was near glad that Crevan was not present, she did not know how he would react to this. She looked to Nuada who was looking upon Lord Fayden and a small retinue of men.

  
“...To the council room...now.” Nuada said. “We will settle this with all due haste…”

  
Most of the Court followed their king into the Council room.

**A few hours later…**

Pen had retired to the royal chambers by the time Nuada left the Council room. He made his way to the royal suite, wanting nothing more to be in the presence of his lady. He found her at the hearth with a copy of the secret of Nymb in her lap. She would be reading the darker tale to their children at some point and wish to read it again to figure out what to tailor to their age.

  
“...You waited up.” He said, half teasing.

  
“Why would I not…” She said softly. “I’m also picking out books for Crevan when he wakes, he seems to enjoy the ones in my personal library.”

  
He looked at the other books on the table, some were classics and others were just ones Pen enjoyed.

  
“...Have the healers said anything of progress?” He asked.

  
“Still slow, but I half expect that.” She said. “It took long for his soul to rot, the healing would be equally so…” She closed the book and set it on the table with the others. “They are recommending he stay in reverie until after Imbolc…”

  
“Then there is time…” He said. “The house of the gull is going to be minor pain since Lord Fayden is insistent for a spot on the council.”

  
“It would track since they are of noble blood.” She said softly. “Though I was informed there is a bit of a split within the house…”

  
“...Over the revealing?”

  
“No, but wither they should remain Sidhe or return to the Aen Elle…”

  
“...We will see how that pans out.” He said. “Now, I think my lady owes me a relaxing session…”

  
She smirked as she summoned his box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gariníon:(Irish) Granddaughter


End file.
